Grimm In Love
by Adelina Le Morte March
Summary: While on an attempted murder case, Nick discovers another Grimm in Portland. When he learns she's been separated from her missing twin brother (also a Grimm) he wants to help her get back on her feet, feeling strongly that it's the right thing to do. Juliette, though, is none too happy when Nick invites this "new Grimm" to stay with them. Juliette/Nick/Gretel; Monroe/Rosalee
1. Copper & Candy

**A/N: _Grimm_/_Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters_ crossover. Hansel and Gretel are Grimms! LOL. Rosalee and Monroe don't appear in this first chapter, but don't worry, they'll be in this; they're my Grimm OTP, so I can't leave them out. **

**Read, enjoy, and review if you like! **

_Grimm In Love_

Chapter 1: Copper & Candy

Opening Quote: _"Alas!" Said She, "I Believed Him True To Me, But He Has Forgotten Me."_

Lately, Nick had been having a lot of dreams about houses. _Burning_ houses. Big-ass mansions made of copper and candy, going up in flames, melting to the ground in hot puddles of metal and sugary goo.

He tried his best not to bother Juliette with these bizarre nightmares. After all, she'd had enough problems lately, thanks to him. He was already putting her through so much worry. Turning into a zombie, looking comatose, fighting more Wesen than ever...

Yes, whenever possible, it was best to spare her.

And, thanks to his new abilities, he realized he was getting better at not jumping up in a cold sweat or panting or doing anything else that would give his imaginary troubles away. Nick could wake up, calm and collected, no problems, half a slow smile already forming, from any given nightmare. Sometimes, for ever increasing minutes, he didn't even remember them. It was all blackness. Then it would come back. The longest it had ever taken was until he'd been getting dressed. That had been kind of weird, since for a second there he couldn't figure out where the melting houses in his mind had come from, until the fact that it was a dream -a nightmares of sorts- came back, slowly, spilling into his mind like flowing thick chocolate batter, or molasses.

This morning, though, it was harder to forget about his dreams once they'd come back, because Juliette was making some kind of gingerbread house for a holiday fundraiser at the vet's office.

And here it was, a perfect miniature of a candy house, right in the middle of Nick's kitchen. Oh,_ joy_...

"Hey." Juliette smiled at him, licked a bit of icing shingle off her fingers, and made a grab for the coffeepot. "Coffee?"

Nick grinned. "Yeah, sure." He was still so happy to have her back in his life, without any trouble, without memory loss, without secrets. Nothing was standing between them anymore. Everything should have been perfect. Maybe, in a way, it _was_. Maybe this was as close to perfect as the life of a Grimm could ever get.

And honestly? Nick thought he could make do with that.

"Here you go." Juliette handed him a steaming mug.

"Thanks." Nick reached for it, only for his iphone to go off as soon as his fingers made contact with the warm porcelain. "Damn." Answering, he sighed, "_Burkhardt_."

Juliette looked down at her feet, disappointed. She knew what that apprehensive expression on her boyfriend's face meant; they were calling him in.

"Homicide a few streets away," Nick announced, after hanging up and putting his phone back in his pocket. "Gotta go." With that, he gave Juliette a quick peck on the mouth, took a single swig of coffee before putting it in the sink, and fast-walked right out of there.

"See you when you get back, Nick..." she called after him, not sure he'd actually heard.

This was not something she was glad to remember: him always going, work always calling him away. Sure, _she_ got called away for emergencies when people's pets got sick, all the time, but somehow that just _felt_ different.

* * *

As soon as Nick arrived at the scene, Hank and Sergeant Wu showing up at the same moment in another car, seven grizzled old men came running out of the house to meet him.

It was a nice house, homey and old, sort of like a big two-storey cottage renovated. Kind of small for seven (or eight, assuming the victim lived here too) people, but cozy-looking and luxurious otherwise.

"That bitch _killed_ her!" snapped the first man to make it to Nick. "I want her arrested!"

Two others, right at his heels, nodded in agreement, muttering angrily. One of them shook what looked like a rolling pin and stomped his foot in the grass. The others, slower, were sobbing too hard to talk properly. Even the first three -apparently fuming and out for blood- had swollen, puffy eyes, like they'd been crying.

"All right, all right." Nick held up his hands. "One at a time. What happened here?"

"Got a call in," read Sergeant Wu; "_Young girl, _Bianca Snowlight_, age fifteen, living with her seven uncles_, found dead less than an hour ago."

The uncles, still muttering about wanting some woman dead, led Hank, Nick, and Wu into the house, past a darkened living room with evergreen curtains, up a staircase, and into a pink bedroom where a girl's body was sprawled across the rose-and-snowflake patterned comforter.

"God," whispered one of the uncles. "She was so beautiful."

The girl had long dark hair, black but with dyed red-tinged streaks, fanning out around her corpse. Her skin, in death, was ashy white. There were no other marks on her body, or cuts to suggest how she'd gone.

"Poisoning?" Hank wondered aloud.

The oldest uncle, who indentified himself as Asher Dwarton, gritted his teeth. "Gee, you_ think_?"

"Usually," the next brother whispered to Sergeant Wu, "he's got the nicest disposition. He wouldn't dream of scolding the police like this... But this is hitting him -_all _of us- really hard."

"That's understandable, Sir," Hank cut in. "But please cooperate. We only want to help."

"You can _help_," snapped Asher, "by arresting the psychotic bitch that did this."

"You have an idea who it was," Hank noted.

"No, we _know_ who it was," choked the youngest uncle.

"It was her stepmother..." another one chimed in softly.

"Name?" Hank pulled out a notepad and pen.

"August Applesmith." Asher shook his head angrily. "You know, that woman is the reason Bianca lived with us, instead of with her father. She's always seen her as a threat."

"Her father is...your brother...?" Hank asked.

"No, thank God," growled Asher. "He's an idiot. No, we're her mother's brothers. She passed away five years ago. In a car crash. Bianca was only ten when it happened. I don't think she really..._understood_..."

Nick went closer to the body and realized something. No, it couldn't be... _Could _it? He put two gloved fingers to her neck, feeling the slightest trace of a pulse. "Oh my god." Apparently it _could_ be. "Hank, she's still alive."

A shocked, collective murmur went through all seven uncles almost in a straight line.

Wu spoke rapidly into a walkie-talkie. "We need paramedics down here immediately."

"She's breathing," Hank noted, bending down next to Nick and feeling Bianca's pulse for himself. "But just barely. She's fading fast."

"Well, _do_ something," Asher urged, wringing his hands. "Lift her up... Make her breathe!"

"_Sir_," said Nick slowly, "take it easy. We'll do everything we can." Carefully he lifted up the girl's back, trying to get her to sit up. Maybe if they could help her regain consciousness...

Just then, a jittery, dark-haired young man -around nineteen or twenty- came running in.

"You can't be in here," Sergeant Wu told him, holding up a hand to stop him from coming any closer. "This is a police investigation."

"Bianca!" he cried, trying to push past Wu's arm. "God...Jesus... What happened?"

Asher gave him a withering look. "Look, Mate, this is not the time. I told you I didn't want you around here no more."

"Please, let me through," begged the man. "My name's Carl Fieri. I'm her boyfriend."

"You're not her boyfriend, you sick, junkie pervert." The strongest-looking uncle, with the whitest beard (almost a red-neck Santa), glared at him. "If you'd stayed away from her like we told you to, none of this would have ever happened."

"How dare you!" Carl finally succeeded in pushing past Wu, leaning forward like he was going to make a lunge for the uncle.

"Everyone calm down." Hank put his hand on his gun, just in case. "There's no need for this. The important thing now is to try and help her."

Carl made his way over to Nick, Hank, and Bianca. He only meant to help, not to fight, but then, in a moment of weakness, the surge overtook him and Nick saw him woge.

He was a dragon-like Wesen. _Daemonfeuer._

Both Hank and Carl seemed to register Nick's expression at the same time.

"Is he...?" began Hank.

"Sweet Jesus!" Carl stared at Nick in horror. "You're a...a..." A _Grimm_! "You..." He roughly snatched Bianca into his arms, as if to protect her. In his terror, he'd forgotten. Bianca wasn't Wesen. A Grimm wouldn't have any reason to harm her. "Don't hurt-"

"Take it easy!" Hank's gun was out now.

The jolt, however, had created a little miracle. Somehow, it had made Bianca vomit. A chunky slice of half-digested fruit (a peach? apple?) lay in a pool of brownish puke.

She gasped in air, coming back to life.

"Bianca!" Carl tightened his grip around her. "Oh thank god."

"Bianca," Nick said softly. "I'm with the police. The paramedics will be here soon."

"Arrest him," demanded Asher. "He and that stepmother of hers should both rot in jail."

"Whoa... Okay, what did we miss here?" asked Wu, confused. "Cuz all I saw was him trying to save her."

"He's corrupting a minor," Asher insisted. "He's way too old to date her. Thinks just because he can woo older woman at the drop of a hat, younger is all fine and dandy too."

"He's been having an affair with her stepmother for years," the Santa-like uncle added venomously, all but spitting in Carl's direction. "Now he's after Bianca."

"Carl..." moaned Bianca.

"I'm sorry, I have to go... You're safe here. He'll _kill_ me," he whispered into her hairline before kicking at Hank's legs and making a jump for the window. Sprays of human fat bubbled up hitting poor, unsuspecting Wu in the face when he tried to pursue him.

"Stay with Bianca and Wu!" Nick called, running out the door and down the stairs. "I'll get Carl!"

* * *

Chasing Carl was no easy task. For someone so scrawny-looking and jittery, he was as fast as a squirrel. In fact, if Nick hadn't seen him woge into a Daemonfeuer, he would have thought he was some kind of skittish, fast-running rodent Wesen.

Even in his increased state of skill and speed, Nick felt sure he was going to lose him. "Carl! Come back! I'm not going to hurt you, but we need to talk! You know what I am, I know what you are...I'm a detective...all I want is to figure out if Bianca's life is still in danger after this... I need you to come back to the station with me."

_Fat chance_, thought Carl, currently curled up behind one of the trees only a few feet away from the spot where this horrible Grimm had almost caught up to him. _Like any Wesen would be that stupid... _

He jumped out from behind the tree, making a beeline away from Nick.

Nick saw him out of the corner of his eye and kept chasing.

Finally they came to an alleyway.

Carl set a fire with his human-fat breath to distract Nick and then dived into a dumpster.

The fire, an insubstantial thing, died out quickly and Nick was ready to resume the chase. Carl didn't get far, he was sure of that. The kid wasn't that smart. If he _was_, he would have kept running. But Nick was somehow positive the kid was trying to hide, making whatever was available a makeshift dragon's lair. One of the dumpsters was the obvious conclusion. _Which_ one? There was the trickier part...

Suddenly, a grunt and scream rang out from the other side of the alleyway. Two slimmer figures, which appeared to be female, were fighting off a bulkier one in a hooded black cape.

"Take that!" one of the woman beings did a roundhouse kick that clipped the forehead of the cape-wearing man-thing.

Nick came closer. "Hey, stop right there." He flashed his badge. "_Police_!"

The hooded man punched the woman opposite to the one who'd clipped him in the jaw, knocking her down.

The woman rolled and pulled what Nick now saw was a crossbow on the hooded guy. "Let me go, or I'll nail your Reaper brains to the effing wall."

_Reaper..._ Getting closer, Nick had realized the hooded man was holding a scythe.

"Oh, look, another Grimm with a death wish," the reaper taunted, his eyes darting from the woman with the crossbow to Nick with his badge and gun.

The woman who'd clipped him spat up something in his face and breathed fire.

Nick almost choked on his own spit. Oh come the heck _on_! _Two_ Daemonfeuer in one day? What were the odds of that happening?

Yet here she was, this Daemonfeuer woman, in full woge, charging at the reaper.

Before Nick could think what to do next, the reaper was dead and the Daemonfeuer was looking up at him, her face shifting back to it's human-like form.

It was no stranger. He'd met this girl before. Except, she was supposed to be_ dead_...

"_Ariel_?" gasped Nick. "Ariel Eberthart?"

She grinned, in that crazy way of hers, almost leering. "Hello again, Handsome."

"You're..."

"Alive?" She laughed, flicking back her hair. "Yeah, I know. Shocking, isn't it? Long time no see." She gestured at the dead Reaper. "You're welcome, by the way." With that, she disappeared into a smog-like mist Nick wasn't convinced she didn't somehow make herself.

"Ariel,_ wait_..." a voice called after her.

But it wasn't Nick's. The woman on the ground slowly started to get up.

Nick ran over to help her, the reaper's words finally registering in his mind._ Oh, look, another Grimm with a death wish..._

Another Grimm...

And if he hadn't meant _Ariel_, the reaper must have meant this woman...

Nick gaped at her as she slipped out of his grip, taking her in. She was like him! A Grimm, in Portland. Since his mother left, he hadn't had another Grimm to talk to. He'd heard rumors of others like him, sure, but seeing one -_meeting_ one- in person was completely different.

This tough, disheveled, brown-haired woman, dressed in leather and lace, scratches on her cheeks, just fighting side-by-side with a Daemonfeuer, was like...like..._kin_... It was like looking into a funhouse mirror. Nick looked at her and saw a vaguely distorted version of himself.

"I didn't know there were any other Grimms in Portland," she said, kind of quietly.

Nick breathed out, just realizing he'd been holding his breath. "Neither did I."

"Nice to meet you." She rubbed at a sore spot near her hip.

"Likewise."

"What's your name?"

"Nick," he told her. "What about you?"

"I'm Gretel."

* * *

A few blocks away, Ariel Eberhart was meeting someone at a cafe. She cleaned herself up in the bathroom and then walked over to his table. "Hey, Cuz. Still trying to kill your brain cells with Jay?"

"Not funny, Ariel." Carl glared at her over a mug of tea his badly shaking hands were barely able to keep their grip on.

"Aw, come on, I'm just messing with you." Ariel pouted and took a seat across from him. "You're my cousin, you_ know_ I love you even when you're high as flaming kite."

"Whatever. I'm getting clean," he said to his tea. "I have to. For Bianca."

"Come on, that's never going to work out."

"Will so."

"She doesn't even know what you are."

"She almost died today." He sniffed and rubbed the back of his hand against his nostrils. "She almost died, and I had to leave her there, all alone. One day it's going to be different. One day I'm going to tell her everything and-"

"And _what_?" Ariel prompted, shaking her head. "She'll understand and her uncles will just let bygones be bygones? I think you've got to slow down on the doses of Jay you're taking. No judgment, but you're starting to sound like a crazy person."

"Next time she needs me, that Grimm won't stand in my way."

"What Grimm?" Ariel asked, leaning forward. "Do tell."

Carl noticed a red mark on her chin and a spot of blood near one of her eyebrows. "You been in a fight?"

"Yes, with a Grimm, ironically enough."

"You fought a Grimm?" And he'd just _run _from his...

"No, no, you silly, I fought _with_ a Grimm. Against one of those stupid Reapers."

"Ew, _why_?" He blew on his tea.

"I have my reasons."

"I say let the Reapers kill them all."

"Bite your tongue," sighed Ariel, clicking hers emphatically.

"So how many are there?"

"You mean Grimms? Here in Portland? Well, one girl and one guy. The guy's been here a long time." Ariel smirked, almost dreamily. "He's the one who helped my father."

"He doesn't happen to be a cop, does he?"

"_Yep_..." Ariel waved at one of the waiters, trying to get some tea for herself.

"I think that's my Grimm."

"Aw, you were scared of Nick?" she cooed.

"Of course I was!"

"Aw, he's not so bad."

"What do you think he'll do to me?"

Ariel snorted. "Nothing. If he comes after anyone, it'll be me."

"You kidnapped his girlfriend or something, right?"

"He has a hard time letting things go." A waiter put a cup down in front of her. "Thank you." She blew on the hot beverage. "Grimms and their silly grudges."

"And you're not even a little scared of him?"

She cocked her head. "Course not. He's the one who's scared of _me_. I _baffle_ him just by being alive."

"Well, let's just hope you're right, Cuz." Carl shuddered. "No offense, but if you'd kidnapped_ Bianca_, and _I _was a Grimm, I'd be coming after you with an ax."

"Hmm." Ariel licked her lips playfully. "Guess I'd better sleep with one eye open."


	2. Grimms Of A Feather

**A/N: Just a note to inform readers that I added an "opening quote" to the first chapter. Also, yes, I decided to make Ben an Eisbiber (beaver Wesen), because COME ON, let's face it, in the Grimm world that's TOTALLY what he would be! Ditto Edward as a Hasslich, though that one was just a _given_...**

Chapter 2: Grimms Of A Feather

"_Great_," moaned Nick, throwing back the lids of dumpsters as he walked through the alley. "Daemonfeuer got away."

Gretel, a few steps behind him, echoed, "_Daemonfeuer_?"

Nick stopped, waiting for her, leaning against the last dumpster.

"Oh, no, it's okay. She's on our side." She bent down and pulled a small dagger out of her boot; it had gotten dislodged from its sheath during the fight with the reaper and nearly cut her. "For now, anyway."

Nick practically had to bite his tongue to keep from blurting out that Ariel could burn in hell for all he cared. After all, she'd put Juliette, who hadn't even _known_ about the whole Grimm thing back then, in danger. There were some things that were hard to simply forgive and forget. Especially when it came to the people that you loved.

Instead, the tired detective just shook his head. "I wasn't talking about Ariel Eberhart." He sighed. "There was another one. I was chasing him this way when...when I saw you fighting the Reaper."

"I didn't see anyone else..."

"Well, you were a little preoccupied," Nick pointed out, shrugging one shoulder. "I think he hid in one of the dumpsters and took off when I got distracted. Actually, I think I heard him leave..." These pesky new senses of his! He sometimes felt things, knew things, without realizing it until it was too late. What was the good of super hearing if you didn't figure out what you'd heard -or_ were_ hearing- until _after_ the fact? "I was just... Just kind of surprised to see...I mean not only Ariel alive after over two years of thinking she was dead... But...another Grimm..."

"I'm sorry about my little scrimmage with that Reaper getting in your way," Gretel said. "You probably think I'm crazy, fighting alongside a Daemonfeuer instead of cutting her head off."

"No, I get it," Nick said. "Two heads are better than one. And if she wasn't threatening you and the Reaper _was_..." Common sense.

"Your average Grimm wouldn't think like that."

"I guess I'm not your average Grimm, then." He smiled.

"No." Gretel found herself smiling back. "I suppose not."

"I guess I better get back to the precinct and tell the Captain what happened."

Gretel noticed his badge for the first time. "You're a cop."

"Homicide detective."

"_And _a Grimm." She looked somewhere between overwhelmed and impressed. "Wow, I can't even imagine how hard that must..."

"Sometimes it is," Nick agreed. "Mostly when I have to explain things to normal people without using the word _Wesen_."

"Well, good luck." Gretel's smile began to wane. She was stepping back into the darker corners of the alley, rubbing the sides of her leather-clad arms, either for relief from soreness or cold.

"Hey, what are you going to do?" Nick asked, concerned.

"Oh, you know, things." Gretel swallowed and pushed a piece of hair behind one ear nervously.

"Okay." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card with his name and number on it. "If you need anything..." A slight tingle ran through the tips of Nick's fingers as Gretel's brushed against them, reaching for the card. "Or if you see any more Reapers and Ariel doesn't feel like playing sidekick..."

"Thanks, Nick."

"We're both Grimms who don't want to cut off the heads of every Wesen we meet. Something of a rare combination," he pointed out. " I guess that makes us kind of responsible for each other." Now that she was holding the card, he pulled his hand away. "Like family."

The very idea of _any_ sort of extended family was sweet in Nick's mind. Sweeter even than a house of candy... It had been a long, long time since he'd had any family. Yeah, having great friends like Monroe, Rosalee, and Hank (and, of course, Juliette's loving support) made it a little easier to bear, but this would be kind of nice, too. Gretel could be like a long lost cousin, almost.

Maybe that was why he didn't want to just leave her in an alley like this... "Are you doing anything for lunch?"

"No," she said softly. "Why?"

"Well, if the precinct wants to be generous and give me an hour off for lunch, I thought maybe you'd like to grab a burger." Nick wondered if it would be impolite to mention he'd heard her stomach growling a couple of times during their short conversation. Apparently not all Grimms were lucky enough to find steady paying work.

"Sure," said Gretel. "There's actually a diner not far from here. Down the street, take a left, right on the curb. Can't miss it. I could meet you there around one, if you want."

"Yeah, sounds great." Nick took out his now vibrating phone. "I'm fine, Hank. I lost Carl. I'm on my way back now." Looking back over his shoulder, he waved to Gretel, who was busy resuming sinking into the alleyway shadows.

* * *

Back at the precinct, Sergeant Wu was having a less than pleasant time trying to keep Asher Dwarton and August Applesmith from each other's throats. It was like he imagined being a body guard for _The Jerry Springer Show_ would be. Except, in his personal case, his small Asian frame wasn't quite up to the task. Luckily, neither Asher nor August were all that big. Well, Bianca's stepmother _was_ on the tallish side, but there was no muscle to her; her limbs were willowy and delicate. If Wu hadn't stepped between them, Asher probably could have taken her down with a single blow.

Hank was getting involved, prepared to begin leading August off to an integration room -Wu now holding his arm out in front of Asher to keep him back- when Nick walked through the doors.

"Oh, thank God," Hank muttered flatly, relieved he didn't have to interrogate August by himself.

Then he noticed the look on Nick's face, all bemused and dazed. Could he really be this out of it just from one allegedly druggie Daemonfeuer getting away? Or had something else happened?

Asher reached over Wu's arm and yanked the back of August's hair.

"He's assaulting me, I want his ass arrested!" August protested in a high shrill.

"_Really_?" Wu moaned, taking a step forward, pushing a still fuming Asher Dwarton further back. These guys were worse than a couple of _children_!

"Nick," Hank said, looking over at his partner with concern. "You okay?"

"Yeah...fine..." He shook off the lingering thoughts of his morning discovery. He'd think about Gretel later, at a more appropriate time.

"What happened to you, man?"

"You mean how did I let Carl get away?"

"No. You just seem..." Hank chuckled. "You're almost..._glowing_..."

"I am not _glowing_," snorted Nick.

"Yeah you are," Hank teased, studying his partner's beaming face curiously. "What's up with you?"

"Dwarton's looking at me threatening!" August shrieked, waving a perfectly manicured hand in the air dramatically. "I want to press charges. I feel threatened!"

"Can we please talk about this later? Right now we've got a job to do," Nick said, gesturing over at August.

* * *

"How would you describe your relationship with your stepdaughter?" Hank asked.

August shifted in her chair. "No worse than most."

"I've noticed Bianca uses her mother's maiden name?" Nick said, looking up from some paperwork. "Are you and Mr. Applesmith..._okay_...with that arrangement?"

"Are you asking me if either my husband or I could have been resentful enough of the fact that Bianca moved in with her mother's brothers that we'd poison her with chunky fruit pie?"

"Ma'am," said Hank tiredly, "all we're trying to do is our job. Please answer the question."

"No," she said. "No, neither of us would ever do anything that terrible. Why don't you ask Asher Dwarton? He's probably covering up for someone. He's always wanted to see_ me_ locked up, so I bet he-"

Nick, looking up again during a moment of betrayed emotion, saw August's face change from a very attractive woman to a hag with rotting skin and razor sharp teeth, glaring at him with practically _gleaming _reddish eyes. _Hexenbiest._

"A _Grimm_!" Stopping mid-sentence, August jumped up, flinging her chair backwards. "Don't hurt me! If you kill me, you'll go to jail forever. I swear it. My husband, he'll-"

"I'm not going to hurt you," Nick sighed. He was starting to get a little tired of every new Wesen reacting to him this way. But, at the same time, kind of used to it. He wondered if it was this way for all Grimms. Did it ever get tedious for his ancestors? Or maybe, with all their head-chopping, no Wesen/Grimm conversation had ever gotten far enough along for that to even be a real issue. "I just want to find out who poisoned Bianca."

"Well, _I _didn't." She sat back down and folded her arms across her chest.

Nick noticed that, now that he wasn't an immediate threat, this vain Hexenbiest was busy looking over his shoulder at the mirror, trying to fix her long, voluminous hair.

"Mr. Dwarton claims you and your stepdaughter were in a romantic relationship with the same young man," Hank told August, leaning forward, trying to get her attention away from the mirror. "Carl Fieri."

"Are you suggesting I'm having an affair with that...that _boy_?" Her eyes snapped away from the mirror, glaring at Hank.

"_Are_ you?" Nick raised an eyebrow at her.

"You're a sick-minded son of a bitch." August actually _let_ him see her woge this time.

Hank, who could see it as well now, blanched and winced automatically. It was always kind of disturbing to see a pretty woman turn into _that_.

"That doesn't answer my question," said Nick.

"_No_," she growled, her human face coming back. "Of _course_ not."

* * *

Gretel could feel the Bauerschwein's lusty little pig-eyes on her the second she walked into the diner. She wished her brother was with her. Not because she couldn't take care of herself; she could look after herself just fine (even the weakest woman in the world, as far as Gretel was concerned, should be a match for a dead-drunk-before-two Bauerschwein perv, and if she wasn't, well, she should just shoot herself and have done with it), but she didn't _feel _like teaching this walking bacon factory some manners just now. She wanted Hansel here to kick his sorry pork ass for her. Or maybe she just wanted him _here_, period. Maybe she just missed him, worried for him, too much.

Regardless, still tired from her fight with the Reaper, all Gretel wanted to do was sit down and wait for the Grimm in peace.

It was five of one. Surely five bloody minutes of tranquility couldn't be too much to ask for? Surely she deserved _that_ much...

Nick _had_ said he'd meet her at one, right? Frankly, Gretel had been so overwhelmed she was having trouble remembering the encounter -the complete conversation- with full clarity. The adrenaline rush to her head had sent her mind spinning. It had only stayed still long enough for her warning about sending her arrow into that damn Reaper's soon-to-be corpse to have been a real threat. She'd have done it, and hit him dead-on, if Ariel hadn't finished him off.

She looked at the card he'd given her. Nick was lucky to have that policeman badge of his. Gretel wished _she_ had a badge to wave in annoying peoples' faces (Wesen or otherwise) when they got uncomfortably close to her.

"I think I need a drink," Gretel decided aloud, walking over to the bar. She didn't have a lot of money on her, and she knew she shouldn't waste it, but with the way that stupid pig was looking at her, she wasn't going to get her peace and quiet, so this was her consolation price. Fair enough. If she had to teach him a lesson, there was no reason to do so with a parched throat.

The Bauerschwein was swaggering towards her like he thought he was God's gift to women.

_Please let him figure out I'm an effing _Grimm_ and leave me the hell alone_, Gretel silently prayed, slapping her precious last dollars down on the counter and sliding them across to the guy behind the grill-and-bar.

"Hey, girly."

Gretel wanted to vomit. She grabbed her drink the second the man behind the grill-and-bar put it down, chugging. Sadly, not even alcohol could make his unwitting woge revealed to her Grimm sense less repulsive. He was just so...so...disgusting...

"You look roughed up, Baby."

_Maybe if I ignore him... _She stared at her now half-empty glass like it was utterly fascinating.

He was getting so close to her that she could smell his breath and feel the stink of his body heat radiating off of him. "That's okay," he slurred with puckered lips. "I _like_ 'em dirty."

_Don't touch me..._

He reached out and grabbed her upper arm.

She shook out of his grip. "Don't." _You _still_ don't know what I am? How are you nasty little piggies not_ extinct_? _Then Gretel remembered something Hansel had told her once. Not all Bauerschwein were as scared of the Grimms as they should be. Maybe because, compared to other kinds of Wesen, Grimms didn't have such a long history of chopping up ham-heads for the hell of it.

"Don't be like that..." With his other hand, the Bauerschwein made his fatal mistake, he reached to cup one of Gretel's breasts.

* * *

Monroe was minding his own business, picking up a couple of hot grilled cheese sandwiches and an order of home-stye fries to go, when Nick walked into the diner, ringing the bells on the door as he entered.

"Hey." Monroe grabbed the bag the man behind the bar-and-grill handed him and went to greet his friend on the way out. "What are you doing here?"

"Meeting someone," Nick told him, looking around expectantly for Gretel. He didn't see her yet... Was he too early?

"Is it Juliette?"

"No, she's either at work or finishing that gingerbread house back in the kitchen." He looked both ways, leaned in, and lowered his voice. "I'm actually meeting another Grimm here."

"_Dude_!" Monroe's eyes widened, his mouth gaping slightly. "There's another Grimm here in Portland?"

Nick nodded, brow raised.

"When did you find this out?"

"A few hours ago."

"Wow..." This was big news...

"I know."

"What's he like?" Monroe looked a little anxious, looking around the bar stools, wondering if any of the people there could be a Grimm trying to keep a low profile.

"_She_, actually."

"A female Grimm."

"Like my mom and Aunt Marie."

"Wow..." Monroe mused. "This is...wow..." He looked over his shoulder, then back at Nick. "Is this girl... I mean, is she one of those hardcore, kill the Wesen, ask questions later or...?"

"I don't know," Nick whispered. "I didn't get to talk to her long. But she seemed more like...well, me." He leaned in a little closer. "She was working with a Daemonfeuer against a Reaper this morning."

"And so the plot thickens," Monroe said, a little nervously, clutching the paper bag tighter. "Listen; be safe, and enjoy your meal with the Grimm. I've gotta get these sandwiches back to Rosalee like I promised. We're taking inventory at the spice shop, and we were getting kind of hungry so..."

Nick held up a hand. "Enough said. I'll be fine. See you later."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, go on. Rosalee's probably wondering where you are."

From the other side of the bar there suddenly came a squealing yelp. A young woman's forehead went smashing down on a fat guy's face in a forceful headbutt that knocked him to the ground with a bleeding nose.

She looked down at him, scowling pitilessly. "That was a _warning_. Next time you touch me -or any other innocent woman- like that, I won't just _break_ it. I'll bite it right off your effing face."

"Yeah, that's it, you _tell_ him!" Monroe called out approvingly. He'd seen this Bauerschwein jerk at various bars in the area, trying to make passes at women's behinds and chests; it was about time someone stood up to him!

Nick was turning a little red in the face, putting his hand to his forehead. "That's her."

The same minute Nick told him, Monroe felt sure that the girl who'd just bloodied the Bauerschwein's nose -looking up in his direction as soon as he spoke- knew him for what he was. "_Dude._"

* * *

"Here you go." Nick handed Gretel a hot dog in tinfoil and a small package of fries in a cardboard holder while the street vendor counted his money.

Gretel choked back a nervous laugh and peeled back the tinfoil. "Thank you."

"No problem." He shrugged. "You're welcome."

"I'm sorry about getting us kicked out of the diner." Gretel took a bite and swallowed, following Nick as he started walking down the street.

He turned to look at her, ready to slow his pace, only to realize she was keeping up just fine. "It's fine. That pig deserved it."

"I know," Gretel sighed. "But for some reason blood all over the floor always makes restaurant owners uncomfortable."

Nick chuckled at that. "Does this kind of thing happen to you in a lot of restaurants?"

"Often enough."

"I see."

"It doesn't happen to you?" Gretel asked.

"I try not to let it. My girlfriend gets upset when I ruin our diner reservations. Besides, a lot of the Wesen here stay their distance pretty well when there's not a crime involved. If one of them attacks me, it usually means something deeper is going on."

"That man," Gretel said thoughtfully, "the one who shouted out when I knocked down the Bauerschwein... You know he was a Blutbad?" She paused. "I mean, I just met you, I don't know how strong your..._abilities_...are yet...so..."

Nick smiled. "Yeah, that's Monroe, he's a friend of mine."

"You're friends with a Blutbad." It was a statement, not a question.

He tried to answer anyway, with a small nod. "You have a problem with that?"

"No," she said. "Not at all. It's funny... I actually have a very good friend who's an Eisbiber."

"Me too," Nick admitted. "His name's Bud. He was -well, still _is_, I guess, God forbid the thing breaks down again- my refrigerator repairman."

"_My_ Eisbiber is named Ben," Gretel told him. "He's a little obsessed with us."

"Us?" Nick repeated. "As in Grimms?"

Gretel nodded a little sheepishly, like her friend's Grimm fascination embarrassed her. "Yeah, he collects all this data and knows all this weird stuff about our lives... It's a little weird, but he's a good kid. He wouldn't hurt anyone, or give the information away." She sighed to herself. "Though, it _was_ a little unnerving the first time I saw a poster of me on his bedroom wall."

An inappropriately loud burst of laughter escaped Nick, startling a grumpy old lady at a bus stop they passed. "Sorry, Ma'am."

"My brother doesn't have much patience for him," Gretel went on. "Or_ any _Wesen, really. But, deep down, I think they were starting to grow on each other."

Nick stopped. "Wait, you have a brother?"

"Yes." She stopped too. "Why did we stop?"

"He's like..._us_...?"

"Of course."

"Is he...here...in Portland?"

Gretel bit onto her lower lip and inhaled sharply, holding back tears only someone in close range would have even noticed were forming. "I don't think so."

"What happened to him?"

She swallowed hard. "I don't know. We were fighting a Hexenbiest in Seattle... It was raining...really hard...lightning striking everywhere. Something went wrong. I remember the Hexenbiest making a grab for my throat, Hansel trying to protect me by ripping her claws off my neck... Then it was dark, I don't know how long this lasted, but I didn't see or hear anything... Until there were these gasps and moans...and I knew it was my brother... He's a diabetic; he needs to take insulin every few hours or he'll die. He needed it and it was out of his reach and I tried to crawl over to him, there was blood on my arm and on my neck, and another puddle of blood that _wasn't_ mine..." She stopped for a moment, closing her eyes, either unable to go on or simply just trying to remember what happened. "Something snatched him away from me. It got to him before I did." She reached into a small leather pouch attached to the side of her coat, fingering a small item she had stored in there. "I have his insulin needle; they left that behind."

"And what happened after that?"

She blinked and inhaled sharply. "A friend helped me heal up. Edward, a Hasslich; he took care of me until I was better. By then, Hansel and whoever took him..." She pulled her lips in tightly, then exhaled. "They were long gone."

"Do you think he's...?" Nick didn't want to say _dead_...but...

"I should," Gretel said quietly, looking down at her hands. "I know I should..."

Nick noticed a bench less than a foot away, and sat, still listening to the rest of Gretel's story as her eyes drifted from her hands over to him again.

"But I don't." She sucked her teeth defiantly. "We shared a womb. We're twins, inseparable from birth." Shaking her head, as if at herself, Gretel sat down beside him. "I know this is going to sound crazy, but I _feel_ him... I sense his heartbeat like we're still children lying in a cradle so small there's not even room to turn and you feel every breath...

"I know Hansel can't live without the insulin, and I can't imagine a way he could have survived, but I feel like I'd _know_ if he was dead." She rested her hands on her knees. "Because a big part of me would be, too."

"I'm so sorry." Nick knew only too well what it was like to lose -or be threatened with the loss of- someone that close to you. Not even the worst beatings he'd ever taken had hurt as much that.

"Me too." She smiled weakly over at him.

This time, Nick actually thought she might cry for real, so he reached out and took one of her hands, squeezing gently. "It's all right. You're not alone now. Who knows, maybe we can find your brother. Maybe I can help somehow."

The warmth of his hand comforted her and she squeezed back before pulling away and tucking it into the pouch again. "I'd like that," she said, "but I don't know what you can do. I've been searching for almost three months now. And I didn't come to Portland because I thought he was here. I thought it was just me. _Alone_."

This -_Portland_- was almost where she came to _give up_, Nick realized. To give up without quitting for _real_. Which her sense of his still being alive wouldn't allow her to do, no matter how strong the temptation got.

"How did you get mixed up with Ariel?" Nick wanted to know.

"It's a long story," Gretel said, with a half-shrug. "Hansel wouldn't have trusted her as far as he could spit. _Daemonfeuer women act too much like a Hexenbiest for comfort_, he always says." Her voice cracked a little as she tried to deepen it to sound like her missing brother. "But _I_ trusted her. To a point. And she saved my life." She looked at Nick pointedly. "I mean, you saw it."

"And the Reaper?"

"I don't know how he found me."

"You should just do what I did the last time they came after me."

"And what's that?" She sounded curious.

"Cut off their heads and send them back to headquarters."

She grinned. "You really did that?"

"Monroe helped some," he admitted. "But _I _killed them first."

"Both?" Gretel sounded impressed. "By yourself?"

He tried to look modest, mostly failing. "Yes."

"Usually, Hansel and I are match for any Reapers they send after us, but we never went solo. I don't know what I would have done without Ariel's help. I probably could have handled him by myself, I've had enough practice, but it's nice in a way that I didn't have to find out."

"Why did she run off?"

"Ariel? I don't know."

"I hope she doesn't come back."

"I don't really care either way." Gretel pushed her braided hair back over her shoulder. "But it was good to have a friend again."

"Hey," said Nick gently, catching her sad gaze. "You have more than one."

* * *

Juliette was walking out of a health food store (she'd made a pit-stop on her lunch break) carrying a paper grocery bag when she realized she had forgotten to call Nick and ask what he wanted for supper.

She struggled to hold the bag with one arm and take out her iphone with the other. Her eye happened to look up, across the street, as soon as she'd managed it, her thumb hovering over her contact list, and she caught a glimpse of Nick himself.

What was he doing out of work? Well, that certainly made it a little easier, if nothing else. She could just walk over there and ask him what he wanted. She dropped the phone back into her coat pocket and got a better grip on the bag.

That was when she saw it.

Nick wasn't alone. There was a woman with him. A pretty one, dressed in disturbingly skin-tight leather.

Could she be someone he was interviewing on a case? If so, why was he alone? Why wasn't Hank or Sergeant Wu there with him?

The woman said something, and Nick reached out and held her hand.

Even from across the street, Juliette could see the tenderness in his expression. A small stab of jealousy pricked at her, and she stiffened. Who _was _this woman and why was Nick holding her hand?

Juliette willed herself to think rationally. Not too long ago, she'd been a little on edge when she found an email of Nick's stating that someone called "_M_" loved him, only to find out it was his dead mother. Who wasn't really dead after all...

This could be just like that, couldn't it?

Except, _this_ woman was _clearly _not his mother. She might have looked a little like Nick in her coloring and mannerisms, but she was way too young to be his mother. Did he have a sister or cousin she didn't know about? He'd said no more secrets; he'd promised to tell her everything, now that she knew -and believed- about him being a Grimm.

But he hadn't told her about whoever _this _was...

_I could go right over there_, Juliette reminded herself. _I could go right now and introduce myself. I'm sure there's an obvious explanation._

Still, she didn't like the gentle -almost _lovestruck_- way Nick was looking at this leathery Bond-girl type chick.

No, she'd confront him at home. Not here.

And as for supper? She could call later. _Maybe_. There was no rush. He _obviously_ had some time to spare he hadn't mentioned earlier...

* * *

"Did your parents really name you _Hansel and Gretel_?" Nick asked, as he rolled the car to a stop at a yellow light. Hansel and Gretel the Grimms? Was that supposed to be _funny_?

"Yeah, I guess our father was into the precious-sounding names," Gretel said, leaning her head back on the seat. "Or maybe it was our mother."

"You don't know?" The light changed and Nick put his foot down on the gas.

"No. Sometimes I wish I did." Gretel turned her head, still leaning, to look at the lights of Portland bouncing off the window.

"Did something happen to them?" Even though Gretel wasn't looking at him, Nick could see her reflection in the glass out of the corner of his eye, and he _knew_ that expression. It was the same one he used to have when talking about his parents. Back before he knew his only _one _of them had actually died.

"They left us," Gretel told him.

"Left you?"

"Me, Hansel... One night we were in our room, sleeping, because it was really late, and our father came in, grabbed us, literally drove us to the middle of nowhere and just_ left_."

"_God_."

"God had nothing to do with it," Gretel murmured, almost more to herself than to Nick. "Hansel thinks it was our mother's idea." She turned away from the window, looking at him again now. "He said he heard her talking to him, outside our room, before it happened. That _he_ wasn't really asleep."

"And you never found out _why_?" Nick turned a curb.

"Hansel didn't like to talk about it," she explained. "For years, I still had dreams about them most nights. When I woke up, my brother was the only person I had to turn to, but he wouldn't listen. He always made me stop. It was just too painful for him."

"I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything."

Nick gestured at the windshield. "Where do you want to be dropped off? Is this close to where you're staying?"

Gretel looked down at the crossbow by her feet, and lied. "Yes. You can let me out here."

It was a decent street, quiet, with a nice-looking hotel just up the block. Nick put the car in park. "See you around."

Gretel undid her seat-belt and opened the door. "Thanks for the ride."

"No problem. You still have my card. Call if you need anything."

"I will."

"Okay then."

"Bye." Gretel grabbed her crossbow, made sure her pouch was still attached to her coat, and got out, shutting the door behind her.

She stood there, on the sidewalk, waiting until his car disappeared from sight. And then she waited a few seconds longer, just in case. No, he really was gone. Time to get a move on. It was already dark, and she couldn't stay here.

At least the ride had helped _somewhat_. Now it was a shorter distance to Forest Hills than if she'd had to walk back from the street where they'd had hot dogs for lunch. Which was where she'd still been when Nick had gotten off his afternoon shift at the precinct. Why had she stayed? Maybe she was just tired. Or maybe she was hoping Ariel would come back and give her a better option than breaking into a trailer again tonight.

Whenever she went to the storage yard at Forest Hills, Gretel always broke into a different trailer, RV, or boat. Never the same one twice. And always ones that were obviously vacant -at least for the night.

That way, she was never caught.

Nick didn't know that she couldn't afford to stay even a fairly low-rate hotel, and when he'd seen her still sitting there, offering her a ride on his way home, Gretel decided not to refuse. He'd been good to her. Listening to her talk about her brother, and buying her lunch... And, most importantly, he was a Grimm, like her. She could trust him. And if not, if -God forbid- something went wrong, well, she'd just give him a taste of what the Bauerschwein had had earlier. Simple as that. Even Hansel would have thought accepting the ride was a good idea. He wouldn't want her wandering around Portland after dark any longer than she needed to. Too much chance to get into trouble. Or for trouble to _find_ her, even as she tried so hard to avoid it. And, in the dark, there were bound to be worse things on the street than a drunk Bauerschwein.

So here she was, walking down the street alone, looking over her shoulders, always on guard, but not really afraid. This was nothing. She'd faced worse. The truly awful part about walking alone after dark was the loneliness, not the fear. She missed Hansel more at moments like these. Gretel was never exactly a social butterfly, but that didn't mean she liked to be alone when things were getting dark and cold out.

Reaching the edge of the storage yard, Gretel stopped at a wire fence. She took off her coat, threw it over so her crossbow would have something soft to land on when she hurled it next, and then started to climb.

Once at the top, she swung her leg over and started to climb back down on the other side.

Two feet off the ground, she let go, landing on her feet.

Picking up her coat and throwing it back on haphazardly while her crossbow propped against a broken wooden crate for a few minutes, she scanned the nearest trailers for signs of vacancy.

It was a quiet night. No noise except the rattle of the nearby railway tracks. No one was watching her.

She finally decided on a small, fairly inconspicuous-looking trailer and made her way over smoothly and confidently. That way, even if somebody _did_ see her, she wouldn't _look_ like she was sneaking; they'd think she belonged here.

You didn't get abandoned by your parents at a young age without picking up some invaluable breaking and entering skills. Picking the lock was little more than child's play. Her fingers were getting numb, but Gretel remind herself that soon she'd be out of the wind, which -even if this trailer didn't have heat or a stove (like she hoped)- would be a _vast_ improvement on her current situation.

The door opened with a click and a creak.

"_Yes_!" Gretel heard herself mutter under her breath.

Walking in and shutting the door behind herself, she almost immediately began to wonder if she'd made a mistake.

Glass bottles full of liquids, some of them with German labels, lined counters and shelves. Books everywhere. Even a spot that looked like it had recently been used as a study-corner. Things piled up around that spot in a semicircle.

Needing to be certain, Gretel fast-walked to the wardrobe and flung it open. _Weapons_. Guns, a crossbow, an ax, a mace...

One of the books lay open on a table, when Gretel shut the wardrobe and whirled around, she saw the detailed drawing.

It was of a Wesen in full woge. "_Shit_!"

Oh, yes, she'd made a mistake, sure as hell.

She'd just broken into a fellow Grimm's trailer. _Sorry, Nick... _

* * *

"Juliette? I'm home."

Juliette was waiting for Nick as he came in the door. Arms crossed, she rose from the couch, turning around with a less than thrilled expression on her face. "You're late."

"Yeah, I had to drop someone off after work," Nick told her, taking off his coat. A warm aroma reached his nostrils; he sniffed. "Something smells_ great_! Is that dinner?"

"Yes," Juliette said, a tense edge to her voice. "I was going to call and ask what you wanted, but you looked a little busy."

Nick was leaning in to kiss her when the words registered and she took a few steps back, tightening her still crossed arms. "Wait, what do you mean I_ looked_ busy?"

"I was _hoping_," Juliette said pointedly, "that _you_ could tell_ me_. I saw you this afternoon, sitting on a bench with some strange woman dressed like Charlie's Angels." Her arms uncrossed and one hand went to her hair as she flicked it back over her shoulder. "And..." A light snort escaped her. "Well, here's the really funny part...you..." (She didn't sound like she thought it was funny at all) "...you were _holding her hand_."

Nick's mouth formed a perfect _O_. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"I..."

"Nick, I'm _waiting_."

"Juliette, it's not what you think," he tried to assure her. "She's a _friend_. Her brother's missing; she was really upset, and I was just trying to comfort her."

"Ooh-kay..." She stared into his face like she was scanning it for lies. "If she's your friend, how come I've never met her?"

"Because _I _just met her today."

"What?" Juliette hadn't expected that.

A smile broke onto Nick's previously defensive face, delighted to be able to share what was really going on with his girlfriend for once. "She's a _Grimm_."

"No way!" Juliette gasped. "That's..."

"I know," Nick laughed. "It's _mind-blowing_. I didn't think there was anyone else like me in Portland..."

Juliette grabbed his arm and led him over to the couch. "I can't wait to hear about it. What happened? How did you find her?"

"Well, it all started with this case that had me chasing a Daemonfeuer-"

"_Daemonfeur_," Juliette echoed. "That's the thing that kidnapped me, right? That crazy woman who died in the fire?"

Nick decided now might not be the best time to tell her Ariel was still alive. He had a story to finish. Besides, it would figure into the story in the right place. Or maybe he just wouldn't say _who _the Daemonfeuer woman fighting alongside Gretel that morning had been...

_That_ might be for the best.

At least for the time being, there was no need to worry Juliette about that crazy fire-breathing stalker coming back into their lives. She was already upset enough _without _that.

"Yes," Nick said shortly, pressing on. "_Anyway_, there I was, chasing this guy, and he jumps into a dumpster..."

* * *

After finishing the story of how he met Gretel, and having a lovely dinner of Juliette's fine cooking, Nick double-checked to make sure she was all right.

"I'm sorry if what you saw today upset you," he whispered, putting his arms around his girlfriend lovingly, pulling her close. "I just hope you know I would _never _do anything to hurt you like that." He leaned close to her earlobe and neck. "I love you."

"I know," she whispered, leaning into his touch. "I'm sorry I overreacted. I just... I couldn't process what I saw." She turned and put her arms around his neck. "But I should have had more faith in you."

"I was thinking of going down to the trailer tonight," Nick told her. "Looking up some Wesen facts for a couple hours." He played with a strand of her beautiful red hair. "Do you want to come with me?"

"Oh, Nick, I'd _love _to, but I can't." Juliette looked over her shoulder back at the counter. "I have to make a couple more of those gingerbread houses for the fundraiser."

"I thought you were done," he protested.

"Well, I thought I was only going to have to make one but then a couple people at the office called to say their kids had the flu and they couldn't do it, so..."

"So we're stuck with a kitchen turned into a candy-house factory." Nick hoped he sounded playful and not venomous when he said that. It wasn't Juliette's fault. She didn't even _know_ about his creepy nightmares... There was no need to take it out on her.

"No," Juliette promised, "it won't be anything like that. Just a couple more houses, and a little less counter space until I can take them in."

"Well, I guess that's all right, then."

"Yeah, is that all right?" Juliette teased, kissing him on the mouth and tugging playfully at his shirt.

"I could stay here tonight," he murmured.

"As much fun as that sounds," Juliette sighed, "I don't think I'll get these gingerbread houses done if you _do_."

"I'll only be gone a couple of hours."

"Take your time."

"See you." He gave her a final peck on the cheek.

"_Love _you."

* * *

For some reason, a light was on in the trailer. Nick put one hand on his gun, slowly walking up to the door and opening it.

It wasn't even_ locked_. He knew _he_ hadn't left it like that. Who the hell had broken into the trailer _this_ time? What utter crap! Nick ground his teeth in frustration. Couldn't he just have _one _normal night in his life? _One_ night where there wasn't conspiracy of traps and break-ins and Reapers and Wesen and everything but the kitchen sink?

Stepping in, Nick drew his gun and pointed it at the back of the trespasser. "Freeze!"

She whirled around, crossbow in hand, pointed in self-defense, breathing a sigh of relief when she recognized him. "_Nick_."

"_Gretel_." He lowered his gun.


	3. Hotel De Grimm

Chapter 3: Hotel De Grimm

"I realize I'm probably going to regret asking this question," Nick said dryly, "but _what_ are you doing here?"

Gretel lowered her crossbow. "I didn't know this was your trailer when I broke in."

"Why would you need-" Nick began, then stopped. "Ah. I get it. You lied about having a place to stay."

Gretel didn't answer that. She didn't _need_ to. It would be pointless to lie_ now_...

Sighing, Nick walked right past her and started leafing through one of the books.

"Wait..." Gretel furrowed her brow. "That's _it_?" She turned and took a step closer to him. "I break into your trailer, and that's all you have to say?"

"Yep." He turned a page.

"So what," she asked, confused, "you're just going to pretend I'm not here?"

"For now, maybe." Nick shrugged.

"Fine." She took a deep breath and, after letting it out, chewed pensively on her lower lip. "I'll be gone by morning." She leaned her hip against the table and folded her arms across her chest.

"You're not staying here tonight," Nick told her, without even looking up from the book.

"_What_?" cried Gretel, her arms dropping to her sides. "Come _on_. You can't kick me out _now_; it's freezing."

"And dark," he added, unhelpfully.

"I'm not afraid of the dark, Nick."

Another page turn. "Maybe you should be."

Gretel started putting her coat on. "Goodnight, Nick." _Goodbye_, Nick...

He looked up now. "Where are you going?"

She shrugged the leather coat the rest of the way over her shoulders. "I thought you said you didn't want me spending the night here."

"Yeah, I did." Nick put his thumb in the book to save the page, closing it. "And that's why you're going home with me when I'm done here."

"You're kidding," Gretel said flatly.

"Do I _look_ like I'm kidding?" He blinked at her, his expression dead serious.

"But you just can't-"

"It's not up for debate," Nick insisted. "I'm not leaving you here all night." He gestured at some of the other books. "But if you want to brush up on some Wesen history while you're waiting, be my guest."

Gretel nodded, turning and walking back towards the glass bottles, picking one up and reading the label, then setting it back down with a light _clink_. Looking back at Nick over her shoulder, she said, "You're really lucky to have all this stuff at your fingertips like this. Hansel and I had a hell of time getting supplies for our line of work."

Nick shuddered at the thought of having to go through everything he'd been through recently without the help of Auntie Marie's trailer. Maybe that was part of the reason he felt such pity and kinship towards Gretel, why he wasn't really mad at her for breaking in here. Gretel was, essentially, what_ he_ would have been without his aunt. His mother had said once that girls usually became aware they were Grimms before boys. Nick wondered what it must have been like for Gretel, when she started seeing unexplainable things -changing faces, monsters- before her brother did. He must have thought she was going crazy._ She_ must have thought she was going crazy...

"I know," he said quietly.

"What are you looking at?" Gretel left the bottles and walked to where he was sitting, glancing over his shoulder at the book.

Craning his neck to look back at her, Nick lifted the book slightly. "How good's your German?"

Gretel cocked her head thoughtfully. "_Pretty _good..."

"Read this," he ordered, twisting his torso and handing the book up to her.

"When you say _read_ it..." Gretel prompted, pausing for a moment.

Nick rolled his eyes. "Read it to _me_."

* * *

"So, this is it," Nick told Gretel, opening the front door, letting her in and flicking the light on.

Gretel set her crossbow down and took off her coat, revealing the lacy sleeves and criss-crossed bodice again.

It hadn't escaped Nick's attention that she dressed a little...well, _uniquely_...but he couldn't help but think that it didn't exactly help her blend in. With her attire, and apparent need to keep her crossbow more or less on her person most of the time, a Wesen -dangerous or frightened- could spy this female Grimm coming a mile away.

"My mother and aunt never told me the job was uniform," he commented.

Gretel looked down at her clothes, hung up her leather coat without being asked, and shrugged. "It's probably not, but this is how I've dressed almost my entire life. It's part of who and what I am."

"Nick?" Juliette's voice called as she came down the stairs. "Who are you talking t-" She stopped when she saw Gretel standing there. "Oh, _hi_..." Juliette suddenly felt a twinge of self-consciousness standing in her lingerie in front of this strange Grimm decked out in medieval couture. Why on earth had Nick brought her _here_? What was he doing with her at this hour in the first place? Had he been with her the whole time he'd said he was going to be at the trailer?

"Juliette, this is Gretel," Nick introduced them. "Gretel, this is my girlfriend Juliette."

"Nice to meet you." Gretel held out her hand.

Juliette shook it quickly, made herself smile, and say, "Likewise. I can't believe I'm meeting another Grimm," and then turned to Nick. "Hey, can I talk to you alone?" She indicated the kitchen with a tilt of her head and a brief eye-dart.

"Sure." Nick followed her, briefly looking back at Gretel over his shoulder. "Oh, by the way, the couch is all yours; make yourself at home."

As soon as they were alone in the kitchen, Juliette demanded, "What's going on, Nick? Why did you bring her here?"

"Because..." Nick lowered his voice. "Because she has nowhere to stay."

"Every hotel in Portland happens to be booked solid?"

"Juliette, I don't think she can afford a hotel," Nick admitted. "She broke into the trailer."

Juliette's brow furrowed. "Wait, let me get this straight." She held up a hand, pausing. "She breaks into your aunt's trailer, and your first instinct is to bring her into your _house_?" Shouldn't he have at least _considered_ arresting her for breaking and entering, Grimm or no Grimm? How did Nick know he could _trust _her? "What if she's working for someone?"

"You mean if she's looking for the key my aunt gave me?"

Juliette nodded pointedly.

"I don't think she's like that," Nick said. Gretel was a lot of things. Kick-ass, definitely. A little scary when she needed to be, maybe. But a liar? A traitor? Someone working for the royal families? Somehow the thought that that could be the case didn't settle right in Nick's mind. That story about her brother...it _had_ to be true...he'd seen the anguish on her face..._that_ wasn't a lie... "All I know is, she's a Grimm, the Reapers wanted her dead, and she's on her own for the moment. I couldn't just_ leave_ her. We have to help her."

"You said yourself you just met her _today_," Juliette insisted. "How can you possibly trust her after just one day?"

Nick held up his hands in surrender. "I don't know." He knew it made no sense, that his opinion was built more on bizarre instinct and familial desire than logic, but that didn't mean it wasn't the truth; he trusted Gretel. "But I do."

Juliette winced.

"Hey, listen..." Nick reached for her, gently touching her arm and pulling her to him. "It's only going to be for a few days. I'm hoping I can help her find her brother. Nothing bad's going to happen, I promise."

"You're a big softie," she said quietly. "You know that?"

"Yeah..."

"You promise it's only for a few days?"

"Yes."

She sighed. "Then I guess I'm okay with it. Just... Just be careful, okay, Nick?"

"Sure." He pulled her into an embrace, rubbing her arms. "You're the best, you know that?"

"Hmm," she said, leaning into his hug. "I better be."

"I'm going to go upstairs and get some sleep." He let go of her and rubbed his eyelids. "Hank and I are probably going to have to visit Bianca Snowlight in the hospital tomorrow. The doctors say she's well enough to talk." Any poison the girl hadn't already vomited out didn't seem to be posing any further danger to her health; they were just keeping her for a few more days to be sure before they sent her back home with her uncles.

"Goodnight," Juliette said, leaning in and kissing him quickly.

"Night."

* * *

"So there's one thing I still don't get." Nick walked to the fridge and took out the milk. "If you and your brother don't kill every Wesen that looks at you sideways, then..." He got two bowls from the cupboard and sat down at the kitchen table across from Gretel, offering her one of the bowls. "Obviously you've been killing something. And I get the feeling it's not just Reapers. You mentioned your brother wouldn't trust a Daemonfeuer... Do you kill the ones that seem sly or..."

"Do you play fifty questions with all your guests before breakfast?" asked Gretel. Now that she wasn't cold, and faced with the prospect of sleeping in anything she could break into without being caught, answering every question that popped out of Nick's mouth no longer seemed like her number one priority.

"I'm sorry." Nick waited as she poured cereal into her bowl, then scooted the milk towards her, like a peace offering.

Gretel smiled. "It's okay." She stirred dry flakes and oats into the milk, letting it soak them. She'd always liked her cereal a little on the soggy side. Hansel was just the opposite; he'd liked his cereal as crunchy as humanly possible, with only the minimal amount of milk. "It's not that I don't want to talk about it..." She sighed, cocked her head, and rested her chin on the tip of her spoon for a second, thinking -about Hansel, about her past, about everything... "Mostly we kill Hexenbiests."

"Why?"

She lifted her chin. "Isn't it obvious? They hurt people, Nick. They're like demons or witches. They cast spells and spread poison. They don't even play fair with other _Wesen_, let alone humans."

"So you and your brother, what, just ignored other Wesen if they didn't get in your way?"

"We work almost like bounty hunters," Gretel explained, bringing the spoon to her lips. "Though, honestly? I think Hansel would do this shit for free."

"You have an old grudge against them. Or one of them. Against a Hexenbiest."

Gretel pulled the spoon out of her mouth and dunked it back in the bowl. "What makes you say that?"

"Call it my Grimm instinct," Nick said dryly.

"We were almost killed by a Hexenbiest, after our parents abandoned us." Gretel shuddered at the memory. Nick was surprised by the vulnerable way her hand holding the spoon shook involuntarily, so quickly and slightly, he wasn't even sure she was aware of her body's brief betrayal. "That's why Hansel's a diabetic. She was trying to make something; a concoction of some kind only Hexenbiests would be..." She stopped and shook her head. "Anyway, it required the '_blood of a child with sugar sickness_'. She forced him to eat, threatened to slit my throat right in front of him if he didn't."

"What happened to her?" Nick wanted to know.

At that, Gretel smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile. "We took care of her."

"Dare I ask _how_?" It wasn't that he didn't believe she could have done it -especially _now_, seeing her as a grown woman- but it was hard to picture a little version of Gretel -a scared, lost girl without her parents, her brother's life threatened- taking on a powerful Hexenbiest.

"Let's just say," smirked Gretel, "if she'd had a funeral, there was no way it was going to be an open casket."

Before Nick could reply, Juliette came in, checking her watch. "Nick, don't you have to meet up with Hank so you can interview that girl today?"

Gretel stared down at her cereal. She wasn't completely sure _why_, but she wasn't as comfortable with Juliette as she was with Nick. It wasn't that there was anything _wrong_ with her, not really... It was more that, well... She could tell Juliette didn't trust her.

Maybe, even, didn't _like_ her...

_She doesn't even _know_ me_, Gretel couldn't help mulling over in confusion._ So why does she look at me like that whenever Nick turns away? _

Nick got up and grabbed his coat off the back of the chair. "You're right, I've got to run."

"Bye," Juliette murmured as he leaned in to kiss her on his way out.

"See you tonight," Nick told her. Then, over his shoulder, like he suddenly remembered Gretel was there, he added, "Oh, and I want to hear more about you and your brother's crusades against the Hexenbiests later."

"Yeah..." Gretel agreed distractedly, glancing up from her cereal bowl. The flakes were so soggy they were turning into milky tan-colored mush now. "Sure."

* * *

"Try your best to be brief," the nurse in pale green scrubs said, opening the door. "She's been through a lot."

"We will be," Hank promised, wondering, as she walked away, if he could get her number later when he was off-duty. That nurse was kind of cute. Dark curly hair, serious face with just the slightest twinge of humor around the full, pouting mouth... Not that he _needed_ another future ex-wife, but still.

Nick rolled his eyes and nudged his partner into Bianca's room.

"Hello there," said Hank gently, when he saw Bianca's eyes widen as they entered.

"Hi." She sat up against the flat white pillows.

"Bianca Snowlight," Nick said, "I'm Detective Burkhardt. This is my partner, Detective Griffin. We're just going to ask you a few questions, okay?"

She nodded. "Okay."

"Do you remember what happened to you?" Nick began.

"Yes." Bianca swallowed hard. "My uncles were out and the doorbell rang."

"Out where?" Hank asked. "Do you know?"

She shook her head. "Sorry, I don't. Work, maybe. Sometimes we only have two cars between the eight of us, so there's always a lot of car-pooling going on."

Nick and Hank nodded and waited for her to continue.

"Anyway, they'd told me not to answer the door for anyone, so I just looked out the upstairs window. Whoever it was, I didn't see them. But there was a package left out on the step so I thought, you know, mail or whatever. My uncles are always ordering weird stuff online, and sometimes my boyfriend sends me presents..." Her pale cheeks reddened.

"Your boyfriend Carl Fieri, is that correct?" Hank double-checked.

"Yes." She blinked and her eyes shifted from Hank to Nick. "You're the guys that arrested him, right?"

Nick coughed.

Hank shook his head. "No, Ma'am, he's not in our custody. He got away."

Bianca looked like she didn't know whether or not to be happy about this. "You know he didn't do anything wrong, right?" She scanned their faces anxiously for their reactions to this nugget of information.

"We will if you can help clear his name for us," Nick told her. "He's clearly not going to come forward on his own. He seems a bit spooked. Lying low for the time being."

Bianca sighed. "My uncles told me you had him locked up when they came to visit me." She sucked her teeth. "I hate it when they lie. They _always_ lie about him. Just because I'm only fifteen." Frowning, "I won't be _forever_, you know."

"They seem to think Carl is in some kind of relationship with your stepmother."

She shook her head vehemently, like there was a bee caught between her ears. "_No_. They don't know him like I do. Carl would never do that. He loves _me_."

"Bianca, do you have any idea where Carl might be hiding out?" Nick asked. "We need to talk to him."

"No, you don't." She bit onto her lower lip. Releasing it, she mumbled, "He had nothing to do with this."

"Bianca..."

"I don't know, anyway." She folded her arms across her chest. "All I know is someone tried to poison me with a pie and my uncles want to use it as an excuse to lock up everyone they've ever distrusted. Carl, my stepmother... If they could get my dad thrown in the pokey, too, I'm sure they would." Reaching up and uncrossing her arms, Bianca tucked a piece of hair behind her left ear. "I love my uncles very, very much, but they get way paranoid when it comes to people trying to hurt me. I guess, now that someone actually_ did_, they'll _never_ let up."

"So you don't think August had anything to do with this?" Hank's eyebrows went up.

"Of _course_ not," she scoffed indignantly. "She's my _stepmother_. We don't get along, I can't live with her; she scares me sometimes, sure... But, come on, _murder_? August is too vain to kill anyone. She'd be way too worried about how unfashionable she'd look in an orange jumpsuit if she got caught. Besides, it would mean tearing her eyes away from a mirror long enough to plan it. Which she doesn't do. She has mirrors _everywhere_ back at my dad's house, even on the _ceiling_; it's really creepy."

"Thank you, that's all we need for now," Nick said, preparing to leave. "We'll let you rest."

As they left, shutting the door behind them, Hank whispered, "You think she's protecting either of them?"

"Carl, definitely," Nick agreed. "But we know he ran because I'm a Grimm, not because he was dodging the law. The thing is..." He looked back over his shoulder at the closed door. "...I just can't think of any reason why she'd want to protect August. There's clearly no love lost there. Bianca must really believe she's innocent."

"We know she's a Hexenbiest," Hank pointed out.

Nick shrugged. "That doesn't necessarily mean she tried to poison Bianca."

Not, of course, that Hexenbiests weren't _masters_ of poison. And of getting away with poisoning people. Look at what Adalind Schade did to Juliette with just a few ingredients and a really pissy cat not too long ago!

If Gretel were here, she'd probably just think Bianca was being naïve. If her _brother_ was, from all Gretel told him, Nick imagined he'd just cut off August's head and assume there was at least a 90% chance she deserved it.

However, as a detective, he had to handle this with a level of decorum the bounty-hunting Grimms didn't usually bother with. One thing was for sure: this case was _not_ going to be easy...

Then again, since that first day he saw Adalind woge -before he'd even known what Wesen _were_- had they _ever _been?


	4. Fights & Picnics

Chapter 4: Fights & Picnics

Ordinarily, walking into his house only to see -and _hear_- a lamp shattering to smithereens was the sign of a pretty crappy day. Either the cherry on top, or just the start.

Today, though, it wasn't so bad. Maybe because it _wasn't_ a sign of Wesen apocalypse or of someone coming after him; Gretel's breaking it was a complete and total accident.

Apparently female Grimms couldn't sit still long, as Gretel had been in the living room stretching her muscles, throwing a few light half-kicks up into the air. She avoided anything breakable (like the T.V. for instance).

Or _tried_ to, anyway.

Over her own grunt as she put the weight of her hip into an air-punch, she hadn't heard Nick coming in and, startled to suddenly see him standing there, jumped back into what she thought was higher ground (or maybe just the couch), landing perfectly on her feet but also smashing her spine into a tall lamp right behind her.

She'd misjudged the distance and space during her automatic leap of self-preservation, off by a measly couple of inches.

Just enough to send the lamp crashing down behind her.

Gretel grimaced at Nick, then looked over her shoulder at the broken lamp. "I can replace that."

Nick chuckled and hung up his coat. "I doubt it."

It was true, actually. She couldn't even afford a place to stay, mooching off another Grimm. How could she possibly buy him a new lamp?

Gretel shook her head. "You're right."

Nick shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

A soft breath somewhere between a sigh of relief and a snort came out of Gretel in a low whistle.

"I do have one question for you, though," Nick told her.

"Yes?"

"What were you doing?"

"Keeping myself from getting rusty." Gretel found a small, pink two-pound weight Juliette had left on the side of couch -probably shortly after they first _got_ the house- and started using it absently. "You never know when you're going to have to tear out some Hexen-bitch's throat."

Nick chortled, shaking his head. Now, he didn't have to worry about that kind of stuff, being all fit with his new abilities, but back before he'd _had_ them, he hadn't exactly been zealous in training himself so to speak. Oh, sure, it wasn't like he'd sat behind a desk eating donuts all day every day or anything, but he never had the endurance for -or borderline obsession with- Gretel and his mother had about keeping on their toes.

It was funny, in some ways -when she did stuff like this- Gretel really did remind him of his mother (the only other female Grimm he knew), but in others she was completely different. He couldn't imagine _her _making the choice his mother had; Nick didn't think -if their parents hadn't abandoned them- Gretel could have made herself leave her brother Hansel the way his mom left him with Aunt Marie. Not even if it would have protected him. Probably not even if it could have prevented him from becoming a diabetic in the first place. True, it was a different bond, brother and sister instead of mother and son -a whole different dynamic- but still.

He wondered if Gretel regretted sticking so close to her brother, now that he was missing. This wasn't, though, something he thought he could ask her. Practically anything else was fair game (she was staying in _his_ house, after all), but not that. Nick's curiosity wasn't cruel enough for that.

"Uh-_huh_," was Nick's slow, amused response.

"Hey, you seem pretty in shape." Gretel lifted her chin in his direction. "What did _you_ do today?"

"I ate a doughnut at my desk."

Gretel's eyebrows lowered. "Uh-_huh_..."

Nick cracked a smile at her echoing his reaction.

"No offense, but..." Gretel lowered her voice, breathlessly adding, "I effing hate you."

His smile widened as he walked over to her.

In a way that would have been threatening if someone he didn't trust did it, Gretel snagged his wrist, her grip vice-like. Her eyebrows raised themselves challengingly. "You ever fight another Grimm before?"

Of course he hadn't. Well, unless you counted the brief moments before he realized who his mother was, and even then there had been someone else there, so Nick hadn't been particularly focused on fighting _her_...

"Not one who hates me," he volunteered cheekily.

She dropped his wrist and folded her arms across her chest. "If you've never fought another Grimm, how do you know if you're really any good?"

"Oh, so you're some big expert on fighting with our kind?" Nick wanted to know.

"No," Gretel admitted, letting her arms drop back down to her sides. "But my brother and I used to practice fighting each other every day we weren't killing Hexenbiests." Nonchalantly, she tossed the pink weight she still held in one hand down onto the couch. "It's how you know you're always always prepared."

Nick sighed. "Yeah, I don't think I need to worry about that."

"But you still want to fight me." Gretel seemed to be reading his face with as much ease as she had read that German passage in Aunt Marie's trailer. She'd peaked his curiosity about her skills, and how his -however enhanced- measured against them.

She'd got his attention, and she knew it.

His eyes drifted to the broken lamp. "Not here, though."

Good call. Gretel couldn't argue with that; a pair of Grimms scuffling was usually prone to leaving an extensive trail of property damage in its path. "Where, then?"

* * *

"Here." Monroe gestured at a comfortable-looking clearing in the woods, stretching out his arm as he crouched and set down the picnic basket. "This seems like a good place."

Rosalee took out the blanket she was carrying (Monroe had everything else; she'd offered to help, of course, but he'd insisted) and spread it across the warm greenery. It had been raining a little earlier. Not enough to get everything soaking wet and uncomfortable, just enough to make the world look like it was covered in dew despite the fact that it should have been way too late in the day for the morning droplets.

"This was a really good idea," she told him, sitting down on her legs as he opened the basket and started to pull stuff out.

Monroe glanced up from the gourmet vegan sandwiches, beet sausages, red wine, and fine Swiss chocolate and smiled over at his girlfriend. He was so glad that client of his with the 1920s rosewood grandmother clock had called to cancel last night; he'd been wanting some time off to do this with Rosalee for a while.

Sure, they _saw_ each other all the time, now that they were living together, but it wasn't quite the same.

Seeing each other as you ran out the door didn't leave a lot of time for conversation. Besides, sometimes when you came home and found your partner already wrapped up in bed, grinning up at you suggestively with lowered eyelids, _talking _wasn't the first thing that came to mind. And then you were too usually tired afterward. With a picnic, you kind of got the best of both worlds. You could still flirt and touch, of course, but the environment was set up just right for catching up in the talking department, too.

Not to mention, they were just due for another picnic _anyway_. Monroe still remembered how badly their first picnic had ended, with that park and rec guy contaminated with the yellow plague attacking them and Roselee getting sick... Yeah, he figured he probably owned her a lifetime's worth of picnics to make up for _that_ one.

"I'll say," Monroe agreed softly. Turning his attention back to the basket, he added, "Now, I know we remembered to pack those wineglasses somewhere..."

Rosalee sighed happily and pushed a lock of hair over her shoulder, sliding down onto her elbow so she could recline like an old Roman while they ate.

"Ah, here they are." Monroe held up the glasses. Speckles of reflecting sunlight twinkled off the rim and shone softly on Rosalee's lower cheek, lighting up half of her continuing smile.

Her eyes were smiling, too, full of satisfied contentment.

Monroe felt so emotional he almost went full woge right then and there. He thought he'd never seen anyone so beautiful.

* * *

"Do you really have to go?"

Ariel tossed her last bag into the trunk of the van and reached up to shut it. "Yes, Carl."

Carl Fieri was wearing a black hoodie, which he pulled -with a rapidly shaking hand- even further over his face when Ariel said his name out loud. "_Jesus_, Ariel!" he hissed. "I told you not to say my name outside."

"Stop being so paranoid." She walked over to the driver's side, opening the door.

"Don't leave me here alone," Carl begged her. "I'm trying to get clean. I need someone to slap the phone out of my hands if I try to get more Jay."

Ariel rolled her eyes. "When have I ever done that?"

"Having someone who knows what's going on..." Carl started, then stopped. His face had gone crestfallen, pathetically. "Wait, you _wouldn't _do that for me?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"Thanks for nothing."

"Love you too, Cuz."

"You know, you lied to me."

Ariel sucked her teeth, looking back at him. "Okay, fine. You_ don't_ look good since you stopped snorting Jay regularly. You look like death warmed up." She started to get in the car, still looking back. "Are we done here?"

He grabbed her arm. "No!" Carl snapped. "We're not. I can't believe you're just running away like this! I mean, I know _I _ran from him, but you told me you weren't scared of the Grimm."

"I'm not." Ariel's forehead crinkled, and he dropped her arm. "Wait." She got back out of the car. "_That's_ what you think I'm doing? Running from _Nick_?"

"_Aren't _you?"

She snorted. "Of course not."

"Then why won't you tell me where you're going?"

"Because it's nothing you have to worry about. It's just something I've got to do." She reached out to pat his shoulder. "Besides, this time I'm coming back."

"You came back last time, after your father died," Carl pointed out. "It just took you a couple years."

"This time it won't."

"You promise?"

"I promise." She gave him a quick hug, feeling his trembling body against hers for a moment. "As soon as find what I'm looking for, I'll make a U-turn straight for Portland."

Even though she didn't think he could do it, Ariel actually felt herself secretly hoping her cousin _would_ somehow overcome his Jay addiction. She'd almost forgotten what he was like before, back when they were kids and her mom was still alive, before her father failed to protect her and became a broken man.

Carl's parents had been alive back then, too. They'd been a happy extended family of Daemonfeuers once upon a time.

Seeing him here like his, broken and scared and driven almost mad with withdrawal pains, she wanted her cousin back. If she couldn't have her parents, she wanted _him_. She might not have wanted him to clean up his life for Bianca, but she wanted him to be healthy and safe for his own sake.

She would never stand in the way of him doing what he wanted -dating the wrong kind of girls and women, getting hooked on Wesen drugs- but she _did _care. She couldn't help that.

"See you soon." Carl gnawed on his lower lip as his cousin pulled away and got back in the car.

Ariel slipped as smoothly back into the seat as a serpent easing into its lair. "By the way, if -by some off chance- Nick _does _catch you, tell him I said hi." She smirked and rolled up the window.

And just like that, she was gone. Carl felt the itching temptation in his fingers to go for the phone.

To call Bianca? Or to call someone who he knew could supply him with Jay at a moment's notice -at a price? Even _he_ didn't know. Either one was dangerous right now.

He wanted to be sure Bianca was okay, but her seven psychotic uncles would find out if he called her. The really sad part was he didn't even know if she was out of the hospital yet.

And to call the one person he knew would be able to get him that Jay fix he was desperately craving... It was _unthinkable_. Especially after everything that had been going on.

He couldn't -_wouldn't_- go crawling back to_ her_.

"Maybe I'll just lock myself in the closet and sit on my hands for an hour," he mumbled to himself as he shook his head under his dark hood and made a dash up the -way too open- driveway, back for the safety of the unsold house he was the squatter in (now -with cousin Ariel gone- _alone_).

* * *

Nick had to hand it to Gretel; even for a Grimm, she was tough. He had the feeling that if it wasn't for his new abilities, despite all the fights he'd won and all the Wesen he'd taken down, this woman might be kicking his ass right now.

He was a little surprised that after she started to breathe heavily and there was no change whatsoever in _his_ breathing, his heart rate barely up, Gretel didn't even _suggest_ taking a break.

It was lucky she was so quick. That all her practice with her brother over the years had paid off. Otherwise, he would have felt guilty trying to hit her as she slipped past him blocking a blow and counter-striking with one of her own, usually a lightning-fast kick he somehow didn't see coming until it grazed his chin or neck as his reflexes sent him reeling backwards to avoid full contact.

This was, Nick had to admit, wonderfully freeing. And the most fun he'd had in a long time.

Fighting a fellow Grimm in the middle of a forest -dodging trees and blows at the same time- shouldn't have been this enjoyable, but it was. It was like being almost evenly matched, for once. It gave him a chance to really feel -not just see, not just _find out_, but _feel_- what he could do. To know what he was -and _could _be, with practice- capable of.

Gretel jumped over a half-rotted stump and, whirling, aimed a fist at Nick's head.

Nick's hand shot out like it was attached to a spring, his larger hand closing around her smaller one, twisting the clenched fist so that she had to turn the other way, allowing him to duck and roll under her arm as he let her hand go.

But Gretel wasted no time in whirling again, this time using her feet to trip him up as he got back onto his feet after that roll.

If he'd been dizzy, she would have won the fight right then and there, but Nick was feeling dizzy less and less these days, and so was perfectly fine.

To protect himself from falling -like Gretel meant for him to- Nick grabbed onto her waist, using her middle as a ladder, regaining his balance.

Wrenching herself free, Gretel pushed him back into a tree and gasped out, "Not bad for a man who spent the morning eating donuts."

Pressing his head back to rest it against the rough bark, Nick rolled his eyes. _Not bad?_ Oh, _please_. Even _he_ knew he was doing _much_ better than just 'not bad'. "Maybe we should call it a draw."

"No." Gretel pressed her lips tightly together and shook her head. "No way. A Grimm always finishes what they start."

Nick lifted his head and took a step towards her. "You just look a little tired, that's all."

She shook her head again. "I'm not."

"You sure?" Nick raised his eyebrows. "Because you _look _tired."

"Well, I'm _not_."

"Wait, what's the matter with your chin?" His sharp eyes narrowed in on a line of brownish-red caked in a dripping strand from the side of her mouth straight down to her chin.

Gretel pressed two fingers against the line. "It's dirt, don't worry about it."

Nick knew she was lying. "Nice try, but that's definitely blood." He reached to move her hand away from the small cut.

She dropped her hand to the side before he touched her.

"Geez." Nick's brow furrowed, the corners of his mouth turning down in apologetic concern. "I didn't realize I actually got you."

Gretel snorted. "It's just a scratch, Nick. You barely nicked me."

"Maybe we _should_ stop."

"You've got to be effing kidding me."

Nick laughed. "Come on, Gretel. I'm obviously not getting tired."

"Fine." She exhaled sharply, one hand massaging a sore spot on her hip. "Then why don't we just do this: next person to pin the other one down wins the whole fight."

"It wouldn't be fair." Nick was thinking about how she was wearing herself out and his body was just getting started.

"I don't have a problem with that." Gretel smirked. "After all, who said Grimms played fair?"

Nick took a few steps back, swaggering loosely, keeping his muscles relaxed to give her at least _some_ advantage. "Whenever you're ready."

"Yaa!" Gretel ran at him.

* * *

"What do you mean you don't see it?"

Rosalee laughed and -still lying on her back, looking up at the clouds- squirmed closer to Monroe on the picnic blanket. "I mean I don't see a wolf eating a sheep."

Monroe scoffed lightly. "You're telling me that cloud on the left doesn't look like a sheep. _Really_?"

"They're clouds, they _all_ look like sheep," Rosalee pressed the side of her head against his thick, warm shoulder.

Monroe squinted. "They kind of _do_, don't they?"

"This is so relaxing," Rosalee sighed.

"_Mmm_," Monroe agreed in a low grunt. "We should do this more often."

_Crash! _

Suddenly two people came shooting out of the closest trees and landed long-ways across Monroe and Rosalee's laps.

"Or, you know, maybe _not_," Monroe said, glancing up from the two people in his lap.

It was a guy and a young woman. And she'd landed on top, the guy trapped under her, his upper half sandwiched between her body and Monroe's lap.

"You _win_," came Nick's muffled groan. "Now would you mind getting off me?"

Gretel pushed her hands into his chest to pull herself up. She noticed Monroe and Rosalee and grimaced apologetically. "_Sorry_," she panted.

"Are you okay?" Rosalee asked, scooting her lap out from under the joint weight of Nick and Gretel.

"_Nick_?" Monroe saw his face as soon as Gretel was far up enough that she was no longer practically suffocating her fellow Grimm.

"Hey, Monroe." He smiled sheepishly. "How's it going?"

Monroe shrugged and bobbed his head in a noncommittal fashion. "Oh, well, you know, can't complain."

Rosalee's emotions betrayed her with the sudden desire to laugh. Really _laugh_. Not just a little chuckle, but a deep, hearty, full body shaking laugh. Which, as it turned out, was enough to reveal her full-on woge face to Gretel for an instant.

Gretel caught her breath. "Ah, Fuchsbau."

Rosalee's eyes widened. "Grimm."

"Yeah."

"Monroe told me about you," Rosalee realized. "You're Nick's friend."

"Nice to finally meet you close up and not smelling like a Bauerschwein nosebleed," Monroe cut in.

"I know, I hate that smell too," Gretel agreed. "I remember you; you were at the diner. Nick told me about you after we got kicked out."

"Define _we_," Nick groaned, still trying to completely untangle himself from his friends.

"Oh!" Monroe helped, scooting backwards. "Sorry, man."

"Thanks," Nick said, sitting up. "That position was starting to get a little awkward."

Gretel was now on her side sprawled out on the blanket. She chortled and rolled her aching body over, rubbing her eyes as she forced herself to sit up.

"Hey, do you want some water?" Rosalee asked Gretel, suddenly concerned. "You're drenched."

It was true. Gretel was covered all over in sweat; her hair was plastered to the side of her head and so were a few leaves.

Monroe looked at Nick in surprise. "Dude, you're dry as a _bone_."

While Gretel chugged some water and wine and alternatively apologized again for crashing Monroe and Rosalee's picnic, Nick thought about sweating. He'd been aware that it took more to make himself sweat, and that he could control if he wanted to wake up in a cold sweat from a nightmare or not. _This_, though... This was getting extreme. He hadn't just gone for a jog, or had a nightmare, he'd been really pushing and exerting himself. Even just now, half-trying to _let_ Gretel win, he'd been pushing his body to see how much it could handle.

These abilities were getting stronger _fast_. There was no doubt in his mind about that.

No chance of denial, either.


	5. Grimms & Ding Dongs

**A/N: Hey is it just me, or did the music score in the latest Grimm Episode, "Eyes of the Beholder" actually sound a little like the music in the Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters Movie to anybody else? I thought it was weird that they sounded so alike and that I was still working on this crossover; LOL. **

Chapter 5: Grimms & Ding Dongs

The smell of forest and stink (in Gretel's case, that is, Nick not having sweated and because of that saved the indignity of B.O. though the odor of pine and dead leaves stuck to him so strongly it was almost as bad) still clung to the two Grimms as they walked through the front door.

Juliette's nose wrinkled automatically. She really couldn't help it; the wafting stench of her post-fighting formerly zombie boyfriend and his sweaty house-guest was overpowering.

Of course Gretel was the only one that actually _looked_ like she'd just been in a fight. Tired, cut on her cheek, strong perspiration, etc... Nick was just slightly disheveled.

Which was why Juliette -lacking any further clues- had to ask, half-laughing nervously, "Okay, _what_ happened to you guys?"

"We were in a fight," Gretel told her. She would have shrugged, but her shoulders ached too much. Instead, she managed a small, dismissive shake of her head without sending _too _much throbbing pain through her neck. "Not a big deal."

It really wasn't. Gretel had come out of friendly scrimmages in worse shape before. The only difference was that she could usually commiserate with whoever she'd fought, after beating the shit out of _them_ while they were going after her. Getting in more than her fair share of hits. Nick, though, just stubbornly refused to be beat up.

Juliette looked concerned. "Oh, my God!" Her eyes darted over to Nick anxiously. "Are you _okay_? What sort of Wesen was it?"

"No," Nick explained, trying not to chuckle. "We weren't fighting a Wesen; we were fighting each other."

Her brow sinking, Juliette managed a puzzled, "_Why_?"

"It's how Grimms sharpen their skills," Gretel said, as though it were obvious.

"By beating the crap out of each other?" Juliette asked.

Gretel titled her head towards Nick pointedly. "Does he _look_ like I just beat the crap out of him?"

Juliette shook her head. "No, actually." Frowning at Nick like a disappointed parent, she sighed, "Geez, Nick. You didn't have to hit her so hard, did you? She's practically limping." Gretel might not have been Juliette's favorite person, but being a vet she did have something of a 'wounded critter, help it' instinct. And right now, it was being set off.

"I am not_ limping_," snapped Gretel, suddenly fascinated by the back of her own hand resting on her bowed leg, not looking at Nick or Juliette. "I'm just a little tired, that's all."

Nick's expression hinted that he was caught between being embarrassed and trying to justify it. He hadn't done anything wrong, really. Gretel would have been furious if he'd treated her like a delicate piece of glass while they fought; in her eyes, it would mean he didn't respect her enough to fight her for real, the way he would if she were her brother.

It would have hurt her more, Nick thought, to have her ego bruised than her body. Gretel took what she was -what they _both_ were- seriously. Belittling that by holding back more in the fight than he had (which only seemed fair since he had new abilities she didn't) would be like making a joke of her life.

He couldn't do that to her.

But of course all Juliette saw was that he'd beaten up their house-guest. Go figure.

"I'm going to get you some ice." Juliette said, walking into the kitchen.

"I didn't really hurt you, did I?" Nick asked Gretel under his breath, now that Juliette was out of the room.

She snorted. "_Please._"

Well, that answered that question.

Juliette came fast-walking back in, handing Gretel an icepack wrapped in a rose-pink dishtowel. "Here you go."

Although Gretel gave the icepack rather a repulsed look (this might have had more to do with the girly-colored dishtowel than the object encased within), she took it and put it on a sore spot behind her neck. Nick had, briefly, had her in a headlock when she'd tried to come up behind him and jump onto his back, having flipped her forward so fast she got whiplash.

Barely a minute later another sore spot demanded her attention, now that the back of her neck was as close to numb as it was going to get, but the pack was already lukewarm.

"Sorry if that's not as cold as it should be," apologized Juliette, sucking her teeth in mild annoyance. "I think we have to call Bud in to take another look at that freezer; it's acting up again."

"I can give him a call tomorrow," Nick offered.

Though there was little point, Gretel was now pressing the non-icy icepack against her right thigh.

"Oh," said Juliette suddenly. "I just remembered, you know Mary Clowd?"

Nick blinked at her. "Uh, no..."

"Come on, Nick, you remember Mary," Juliette insisted.

Arching an eyebrow, he reaffirmed, "I don't remember Mary."

"Alicia's cousin." Juliette paused for a second, lost in thought. "Three times removed... Or was it four times? We met her...like..." She stopped, counting silently on her fingers. "Well, it would have to be before my coma... So, what, two or three years ago?"

Nick's expression didn't change. "Juliette, I have_ no idea _who you're talking about."

"Alicia's cousin."

He chuckled. "Yeah, got that much."

"_Alicia_, the one with the husband who..."

Nick held up a hand, not wanting to get into it. Juliette knew perfectly well what he thought of their friend Alicia's abusive bastard of a husband. He was not going to get into another discussion about that in front of Gretel. Frankly, he was a little worried Gretel would do what he'd not so secretly always wanted to and actually _kill_ Alicia's husband, Joe, if she heard that story in full detail.

"Of course I know who _Alicia_ is," Nick said, as Juliette's mouth clicked shut almost audibly (she was looking at Gretel out of the corner of her eye, probably catching onto what her boyfriend was thinking she might do, half-tempted to _let _her); "I just don't remember her ever having a cousin named Mary."

"_Anyway_," Juliette pressed on, "Mary invited us to a party tonight."

Nick winced.

She swatted his arm. "It'll be _fun_, Nick."

Somehow, Nick doubted that. It wasn't that he minded going to parties with his lovely girlfriend on his arm; he just didn't really like hanging out with people he barely knew. Being a Grimm, you never knew where Wesen were going to randomly pop up. These days, they seemed to be coming in through the freaking windows. And some poor sap screaming, "Oh my God, it's a Grimm, run for your life!" and overturning the catering tables as they made a break for the nearest exit didn't exactly make Nick the most popular man in the room. Or, if it did, it was for all the wrong reasons. There was no way for him to explain the incident.

Gretel started fiddling with a loose thread dangling from the pink dishcloth. She got Nick's apprehension; it wasn't novel. She and Hansel used to feel that way, too, about throwing themselves at strangers, not knowing in advance who was what. But, for them, indulging those feelings was never an option.

"Your friend could come, too," Juliette offered, generously.

She was still largely in 'help the wounded-critter' mode. And it seemed a little rude -since Gretel _was_ staying with them for a few days, no other option, no avoiding it- to just leave their guest sitting here nursing her injures all night. Also, maybe, somewhere in her subconscious, Juliette's mind was vaguely aware that she might feel a little better about this Grimm who dressed like one of Charlie's Angels threw up a Renaissance fair if she could see her around_ other_ people, not only Nick.

Oh, sure, she knew Nick didn't think of Gretel that way. That all his efforts to help her were no more a suppressed desire to be with her than Juliette's giving her an icepack had been. But, being a woman, it was still hard not to see someone of your own sex who related to your boyfriend on a level you couldn't, who had something in common with him you didn't, come flouncing into your lives. And Gretel, with her tight leather and motorcycle gang attire, was difficult not to view as a threat, however irrational that might be, especially considering the jarring away she'd first met her.

Of course, it was more likely, Juliette thought, that Nick was wrong about his new friend and she _was _working to get the key. Way more likely that _his_ heart would be broken by betrayal than hers. It was stupid to think of Gretel as _both_ kinds of threats. Stupid, but impossible not to.

That might have had something to do with passing the invite on, too. Juliette wanting to prove she could be bigger than her emotions in this. Nick _would_ feel more comfortable if he had someone else, besides just Juliette herself, he could talk to there. Another buddy.

Inviting her like this, Juliette was in effect saying that she respected Gretel's new place in Nick's life as his friend, just like she accepted Hank and Monroe and Rosalee. Just like she accepted he was a Grimm and there were Wesen.

In Nick's line of thought, though, he couldn't help wondering why Juliette seemed to think _two_ Grimms at a party full of strangers was better than one.

Twice the table-flippings and freakouts?

He, being a guy, didn't see the matter at all angles -some of them probably imagined- like his girlfriend did. Yet, somehow, he got that she was trying to be supportive -like she always was. His wonderful, supportive, loving, ever-understanding Juliette who accepted him for what he was.

"I guess she could." Nick shrugged, turning to Gretel. "If she wants."

"You wanna come?" Juliette asked nicely. She didn't want Gretel to get the impression she was acting like she wasn't actually in the room with them.

Gretel, dropping the useless pack and cloth onto the floor with a _thud_, managed to look up and blurt out, "Yeah, sure."

And just like that, it was settled. Gretel was coming to Mary's party with them.

* * *

"You can't be serious," Gretel remarked. "What was wrong with _my_ clothes?"

She was standing by the bed in the master bedroom after taking a shower, wearing a red silken kimono Juliette had loaned her, looking down in mild horror at the clothes laid out for her.

Juliette had set out a ruffled tan-and-black blouse that buttoned in the front, blue jeans, and a pair of black ankle boots.

As far as Gretel was concerned, the boots were the only even remotely acceptable part of this little ensemble. She'd never dressed like this a day in her life! This was what normal, soft, pretty, frilly women wore! Women like Juliette, with at least semi-normal lives and jobs. Women who _weren't _expected to be able to reach into their shoes, pull out a throwing knife, toss it over their shoulder, and embed the blade in a Hexenbiest's abdomen at a moment's notice.

She couldn't hide _anything _in Juliette's clothes. Even a pack of gum would have been tricky. A pistol? A knife? No way in hell.

Juliette sighed. What was wrong with Gretel's clothes? Besides the fact that no sane person would go to a party wearing that much leather? Where did she_ begin_? Without being rude, of course. There was no reason to be mean. Just tell her the truth; her clothes were dirty and sweat-drenched from fighting Nick. They'd needed a wash.

"Your clothes are in the laundry," she finally settled on, gently. "And you needed something to wear tonight, so I thought you could borrow something of mine."

Gretel gave in. "Thank you." She probably shouldn't bring weapons to the party. If a Hexenbiest did turn up and attack, this could be a decent chance to put her hand-to-hand combat skills into good use.

Besides, she'd insist on bringing her own leather coat, and that was where most of her best on-person weapon-hiding spaces were _anyway_...

Juliette smiled. "Your welcome."

"I'm not sure those pants will fit me."

"Trust me." Juliette bent over the bed, scooped up the clothes, careful not to wrinkle them, and draped them over Gretel's awkwardly outstretched arm. "Compared to what you're used to, my jeans are sweats."

* * *

When the withdrawal pains were at their worst, Carl lapsed back into bad old habits. Habits that were, in their own ways, probably as dangerous as his Jay abuse.

Daemonfeuers never cut themselves deliberately to ease pain; they had their own lowly form of self-harm. They coughed human fat onto their own arms and legs (the less confident did toes or a thumb) then, breathing onto the doused body part, set it ablaze. Those that were crazy enough to do this typically avoided doing it in a way that would roast them alive; they thrived on the pain of small to medium burns.

It was when things in his life had started going downhill that Carl turned to this practice. Very few people, none of them in his life _now_, knew. Not even Ariel knew. The times he'd seen her back when he did it a lot, Carl had managed to hide the burns from her. She never even suspected, far as he knew. Besides she hadn't been around him too much when he was a big burner. Ariel was only aware of his problems as far as being a burn out went; she knew about the Jay.

After Jay was introduced into his lifestyle, and later Bianca, Carl had been more relaxed; his inner suffering no longer so awful he needed to burn himself.

Now there was no Bianca, and no Jay. He was getting clean in hopes of getting her back, but could he get past her uncles even after he succeeded? He'd never charm them, never get them to even grudgingly like him. Maybe Ariel was right. Even if he won them over somehow, could he really expect Bianca to accept him for what he really was?

To love him as a _Daemonfeuer_?

Pain returned, and also guilt -for things he done in the past to _get_ his next Jay fix- crushing him.

He needed to burn. He needed relief.

Rocking back and forth on the cold bathroom floor, Carl rolled up his sleeve, took a deep, raspy breath, and coughed.

* * *

"Anybody ready to go yet?" Nick called up the stairs.

"We'll be down in a minute!" Juliette's voice replied.

Nick hopped off the bottom step and waited.

A few seconds later, Juliette appeared, wearing a red minidress with spaghetti straps and matching pumps.

"You look beautiful, as usual," Nick commented, grinning. Then, "Where's Gretel?"

Juliette rolled her eyes and took a step back, dragging someone with her by the arm. "You look _fine_," she laughed. "Just get out here!"

Nick's eyes widened when he saw Gretel. Dressed like that, she didn't look anything like the Grimm he'd come to know. Juliette must have done something to her hair -curled it, probably- to make it look shorter, because it had seemed a lot longer braided down her back. She was even wearing a little bit of makeup.

With that clothes and that hair, she looked like... Well, like _Juliette_, actually. Partly this was due to the fact that it was _her_ clothes and makeup, but it was also a transformation in its own right. Dressed like this, Gretel could be anybody. Nick wouldn't be able to pick her out on the street, aside from the fact that she was a pretty brunette girl. And there were enough of those to make it confusing. As a cop, he might have had a hard time picking her out of a lineup.

Gretel had come into their house as one of Nick's strange friends, from his Grimm vs. Wesen world he'd been living in since Aunt Marie's death; she was walking out of it now much more like one of Juliette's normal friends.

She looked like _any_ of Juliette's friends might.

That aside, she _did _look nice. And much more girly than Nick had been able to imagine her ever appearing.

Folding her arms across her chest as soon as Juliette let go of her, Gretel sighed, "All right, let me have it."

"You look_ great_," Juliette tried again. "Nick, will you _tell_ her she looks great?"

"Gretel, you look great."

Almost like she was insulted when he _didn't _insult her -_didn't_ tell her he liked her better the way she'd been before- Gretel folded her arms across her chest, marched down the stairs, and muttered, "You look like shit," as she walked past Nick and threw on her coat over Juliette's clothes.

Nick smirked tightly. "_Thanks_."

"She is a charmer," Juliette said through a clenched smile of her own.

* * *

"Hank, what are you doing here?" Nick asked, surprised to see his partner at a party thrown by one of Alicia's distant relatives.

He'd been at the party for about an hour by this point, and if there were any Wesen in attendance they were good at keeping their cools, because he and Gretel had both gotten through the evening without any Grimm incidents so far.

Gretel seemed to finally have gotten comfortable in Juliette's clothes, through she hadn't allowed them to check her coat, leaving Nick feeling suspicious.

"Please tell me you didn't bring your crossbow," he'd said to her out of the corner of his mouth.

"Of course not." She'd snorted. "Exactly how would my crossbow fit in my coat? It's a lot bigger than yours."

"Let's not go there."

"I have one knife and a _small_ pistol."

"You brought a _gun_?" he'd hissed.

She'd cocked her head at him.

"Fine, just don't let anybody_ see_ it, okay?"

And she hadn't. No one had run out of the party screaming "_Gun_!" or "_Grimm_!"; Nick considered that a success.

"Oh, my goddaughter Carly is dating one of the caterers," Hank explained. "Jarold wanted me to come here and keep an eye on them tonight."

"Ah." Nick nodded. "You're chaperoning."

Hank shrugged. "Pretty much."

"Nick, you've got to see this." Gretel appeared at his side, excited. "This guy's got a taser the size of my_ head_."

"I've seen tasers before, Gretel, I work with the _police_," Nick reminded her.

"Who's this?" Hank asked, his face lighting up.

"Oh, right." Nick couldn't believe he'd completely forgotten to tell Hank about her. He'd said he'd talk to him about it (aka meeting another Grimm) later, but somehow had never actually gotten around to it. "Hank, this is Gretel."

"Nice to meet you." Hank stuck out his hand.

"She's a _Grimm_," Nick mouthed.

Hank's eyes widened.

Gretel shook his hand with a grip that would have done a _Siegbarste _proud.

"Gretel, this is Hank," Nick told her. "We work together." Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, "_Kehrseite-Schlich-Kennen_."

* * *

Gretel rolled onto her side and leaned over the edge of the couch, reaching for a magazine on the coffee table.

For some reason, Juliette only kept two kinds of magazines in the house. Housekeeping and some animal care drivel journal she probably brought home from work.

The animal ones were mildly interesting. Even if the articles were shitty, Gretel liked looking at the pictures; they were mostly of birds, horses, cats, and dogs, but some more exotic pets sometimes made it in, too. But the housekeeping ones were rotten through and through. Gretel hated those with a passion. Just pictures of annoying, perfect houses she would never in her whole life be welcome in. Idyllic family rooms that no one _she_ knew had ever seen the likes of in real life splattered every page from the front cover to the back. Maybe that's why they were always empty in the photographs.

Gretel had already read most of the animal ones, and reading did nothing to block out_ sound_ anyway. Just a welcome distraction in its own way.

She would have switched on the T.V. but the cable box was scrambled or something else was wrong, because it wasn't working no matter which buttons she pressed on the remote.

After five minutes of uselessly low-pitched static that couldn't drown out a_ housefly_, she'd finally given up and switched the damn thing off.

Nick probably could have gotten it to work, but he was otherwise occupied. In fact, his current occupation was why Gretel was searching for a distraction. It didn't really bother her as much as stuff like that seemed to bother most people, but it seemed rude to just sit down here and _listen_.

Especially when they had no idea she could hear them screaming and moaning and rolling around up there.

After they'd gotten home from the party, Juliette all loosened up from three or four glasses of wine she'd had, Nick and his girlfriend had slipped upstairs, leaving Gretel in the living room, making up the couch, completely forgotten.

Now it was just endless squealing and declarations of love, followed by moans and pleas to a deity of some kind, ending with the squeaking of bed springs and the sound of the bed itself moving up there, scuffing up the floor.

Even someone as low-key about such matters as Gretel could only take it for so long before she pressed a couch pillow against her ear and silently prayed to each and any higher power that might or might not exist to make her deaf, just for the rest of the night.

* * *

Around one AM Nick came down and opened the fridge. The ice was still melting; Bud would hopefully be able to fix that real soon. What were the odds of finding an unspoiled late night snack?

About as good as finding unspoiled milk. It looked like he'd have to settle for dry cereal or something else out of the cupboards.

Shutting the refrigerator door, the retracting light suddenly landed on someone sitting on the counter.

Nick slammed the door the rest of the way and whirled around, prepared to defend himself.

"It's just me," Gretel said, scooting to the edge of the counter and jumping off, walking over to turn on the kitchen light.

"Is that a Ding Dong?" Nick asked, noticing a dark pastry in her hand.

"Yeah." Gretel swallowed. "It is."

"Toss me one."

"Here." She glanced into the box she'd pulled it out of. "You're lucky; that was the last one."

Mouth half-full of Ding Dong, Nick chuckled, "So you've been hanging out in the kitchen eating Hostess treats all night?"

"Well, honestly, I thought it would be quieter in the kitchen," Gretel admitted. After a pause, she shrugged. "It wasn't."

Nick's forehead crinkled for a moment before he caught on. "You could hear us upstairs?"

Gretel nodded. "Wear her out, did you?"

"Oh my God."

"Is that the only line you know, Nick?"

Nick was redder than a tomato now. "I can't believe you heard..." He put his hand on his forehead. "Did you hear _everything_?"

"Pretty much."

Gretel sat down at the table across from him. "Don't worry about it; I'm used to it."

"_What_?"

"Hansel," she explained, shrugging again.

"So you're telling me your brother is a..."

"A huge man-slut, yes," Gretel chuckled, smiling to herself. Even when she was saying something negative about her twin, she still missed him. "I blame our parents for that. Aside from me, he didn't have anyone he could rely on and, like I told you, he would even _talk_ about our mom and dad. I guess he felt the only way to fill in the void was to be a bit of a womanizer.

"The first few times, he tried to hide it from me; I think he wanted to believe I didn't_ know_ what I was hearing in the other room when we stayed with people. He was only fourteen when he..." Here Gretel couldn't quite look at Nick, she had to turn away. "When he started actively pursuing women."

"Why are you telling me this?"

She looked at him now. "Because I trust you. I doubt you'll think less of him for what he's done."

Nick crinkled his nose. "So for years you've been hearing your brother and...his..._company_...?"

"You get used to it," said Gretel. "Nothing in my life was conventional."

"But...it was just him?_ You _never...?" Nick regretted the question the minute he stammered it out. "Sorry, too personal. That's none of my business."

"Are you asking me if I ever had men spend the night?"

Nick blanched.

Gretel looked down at the tabletop. "No. For one thing, Hansel would have killed them. For another...something..." She took a deep breath. "Something happened that made me...not want that..."

"What happened?"

Gretel closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. "I was almost gang raped when I was a teenager, Nick."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." He wanted to reach across the table and hold her hand comfortingly, but he wasn't sure if -talking about this- she wanted any male touching her. "I had no idea."

"There was no way you could have known." Gretel sat up straighter. "Hansel didn't even know. I never told him. I didn't want him to think it was his fault; he was with another woman at the time. I didn't want him to feel guilty, because I think he actually cared about Mina; that was the name of the girl he was with that afternoon. He never cared about any of the others."

"How did you...?"

"How did I get away from them?" Gretel smiled. "Easy. That was the day I met Edward. He killed most of the effing bastards."

"Gretel, can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

"The more I'm around you, the more I hear about your life, the more I understand why my mother left me with my aunt to protect me. You and your brother had to go through so much you weren't ready for... But I had years and years of just being a normal kid...and then a normal guy, and a normal detective..."

Gretel shook her head. "Abandonment is never the answer."

"She didn't abandon me, not like..." Not like Gretel's parents did. "She chose to let me live my regular life for as long as I could."

"Nick, being a Grimm's not something you choose -or that your parents can choose for you." She rested her elbows on the table. "This isn't the life Hansel and I chose."

_What_ would_ you have chosen? _Nick wanted to ask.

But he didn't. What was the _point_?


	6. Triumph Of The Hexenbiest

Chapter 6: Triumph of the Hexenbiest

"_Karaoke 4 Kops_?" Nick read the flyer in a tone trapped in that fine line between amused and disgusted.

Hank chuckled and shook his head. "Man, the fundraisers around here get stupider every year."

Nick dropped the flyer down on the desk and pulled out his chair, sitting down. "So stupid that now we can't even spell the word _cops_."

"Or the word _for_," Hank added.

"Maybe only four of us have to do it," Nick suggested.

"Oh, wouldn't _that_ be nice." Hank sighed.

"We're still working on this Bianca Snowlight attempted murder case, and we're no closer to a breakthrough." Nick turned on the computer and clicked open a useless file he'd already read through five or six times. "You'd think they'd cut us some slack."

"It's because they don't want to do this either," Hank told him. "And if_ they_ have to sing in front of their coworkers, then so do we."

"Wait, didn't you say you_ enjoyed_ Karaoke on your last vacation?"

Hank cocked his head slightly. "Come on, Nick. _Everything's_ fun on vacation. Especially if there's an open bar. No one wants to sing in front of their coworkers."

"And dead sober, at that," Nick had to agree. "At least we can all commiserate together."

Sergeant Wu came up to them grinning, holding out the flyer. "Hey, you guys hear about the new fundraiser?" His grin widened. "Karaoke!"

Hank blinked.

Nick coughed.

Captain Renard came up behind Wu and yanked the flyer out of his hand as he walked past him. "Maybe after we blow all our tax dollars on a fundraiser that's barely going to cover the audio equipment, we can have a spelling bee."

"But Captain," Hank joked, "we gotta get down with the times. _Everyone's_ spelling cop with a K now."

"It's very popular with meth addicts," Nick added.

"Oh, that reminds me." Wu whipped out his iphone. "I've got to have my neighbor record _Breaking Bad _for me tonight."

Captain Renard rolled his eyes. "Any progress on the Snowlight case?"

Nick shook his head, serious again now. "None." He leaned back in his chair and spun around. "We've hit a complete dead end. There's a lot of bad blood in that family, but we can't prove any of them even _wanted_ Bianca dead. Asher insists it's August; Bianca thinks Asher's just overprotective... It just goes in circles."

"We ever bring the boyfriend in for questioning?" Captain Renard wanted to know.

"He's still M.I.A." Nick grimaced.

"It's not your fault he got away, Nick."

"Actually, Captain, it is."

"We'll figure it out." He pulled out a manila folder and flipped through some papers pensively. "I just wanted to check with you, since you and Hank are the ones on this case, and see if you think Bianca needs to be placed in protective custody, in case the culprit tries again."

Nick glanced at Hank. "What do you think?"

He shrugged. "She's got all her uncles watching her like a hawk now. She's got her own personal swat team of seven. There's no need to waste police resources."

Renard nodded and closed the folder.

The doors swung open and two officers led in a familiar young woman dressed in leather and lace, handcuffed.

"We found her driving a car registered in your name, Burkhardt."

Gretel cocked her head in annoyance. "Nick, could you tell these idiots I had your _permission_ to take the car to get take-out?"

"You know this woman, Burkhardt?" An eyebrow or two was raised.

Nick smirked impishly. "Never seen her before."

"_Nick_!" Gretel glared, almost murderously.

He laughed. "Just kidding. You can let her go; she's a friend of mine."

The officers let go of her hands and she held them up, rattling the cuffs pointedly as they fumbled for the keys to unlock them. Somehow, Gretel could make any man -even a cop- just a little nervous. She just had that gift-like ability.

As soon as her hands were free, Gretel started rubbing her wrists.

"Nice to see you again," Hank called over to her.

Gretel looked up and nodded in his direction. "Oh, yeah. Hi again."

Renard was staring at her very intently; Nick wondered if the captain guessed -or _sensed_, more likely- that Gretel was a Grimm.

* * *

Bianca Snowlight read the email for a fifth time.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Her uncles would never agree. They wouldn't believe one word of August's plea to reconcile their differences. Most of them still thought her stepmother was the one tried to kill her.

Uncle Asher would have a fit if she told him she was even _thinking _about going to see August.

But her stepmother had never reached out like this before. They were family, technically, even if Bianca was a little afraid of her. She had no intentions of moving back in with her father and his wife, leaving her uncles, or of changing her name back to Applesmith, but what was so wrong with talking? What was so wrong with trying to settle all this bad blood?

Maybe this was all that was needed. When she and August were able to prove that they could be on civil terms, well then _of course_ her uncles would have to understand that she couldn't _possibly _be the one who sent that pie.

And who knew? Maybe -just maybe- if they had to admit they were wrong about August, they'd admit they were wrong about Carl, too. They'd have to let her see him sometime. Even if she had to wait for him, she would. She loved him. And he still loved her. He'd have come to her window by now, just like he used to, if he wasn't so scared of that detective and of her uncles...

With that cheery, hopeful thought in mind, Bianca flounced over to her bed, ripped off the sheets, and began tying them into a ladder.

* * *

While she walked down the hall of the precinct, Gretel was sliding a leather strap through one of the buckles on her coat; it had come loose and she hadn't exactly been able to fix it while she was handcuffed earlier.

A muscular arm promptly pushed her against the wall. It wasn't rougher than it needed to be. All the force in the push was to keep her in place, not to hurt her. There was no added pain.

If Gretel had been more of a damsel in distress, she might have screamed. This was a police station, after all. Nick himself was only a few feet away, behind the doors she'd left behind her. But, of course, Gretel wasn't like that. She liked to _try _and save herself first; even on the odd occasion when she didn't succeed and Hansel had had to come charging in.

So she stared at her attacker first. She needed to know who he was, what his motivation was. That was the best way to fight something like this off, not only well but also -if she didn't want to make a ruckus- quietly. Biting off his nose (like she'd threatened to do to the Bauerschwein) would be affective enough, but everyone in the building would hear the resulting scream. Maybe this was one of those times where a knee to the groin would be the better option. Or a simple shove. It wouldn't be easy to shove him, though, she realized. He was a good-sized guy; he had more muscle than she did.

He was the _Captain_, of all people. Nick's boss.

Lifting her arm and pressing it against his broad chest to keep him at least an inch away from her, Gretel whispered, "You have five seconds to tell me your name, and what the hell you want, before I tear out your throat."

"My name is Sean Renard."

She stared at him more intently. "You're hiding something."

"I'm sorry," he said calmly. "Where are my manners?" He clenched his jaw, set his teeth hard against each other, going into his fullest woge.

Gretel's eyes widened. _Zauberbiest. _

Changing back, Sean Renard nodded. "So you_ are_ also a Grimm. Good. I _thought_ so."

"Yes, I'm a Grimm, just like Nick." Gretel couldn't shrug in her current position, but she did her best to make her body language seem nonchalant. She wanted to play it cool until she understood what this Renard guy really wanted from her.

"I didn't mean in addition to Nick," Sean told her. "Yes, don't worry, I know about him; I knew about him before he knew about me."

He knew? Nick effing _knew_? Gretel half wanted to get away from Sean Renard just so she could march back into that other room and punch Nick. Real nice that he'd warned her he worked with (no, worse, _for_) a Zauberbiest! He knew her bad history with Hexenbiests; he could have at least _warned _her.

"Then what did you mean?" Gretel asked, a little short of breath.

"I _meant_," said Renard coolly, "what you are in addition to a Grimm."

"I don't know what you're talking about." But her pulse was quickening, her face going this cross shade between red and purple with humiliated anxiety.

"Yes, you do." Renard grabbed her arm and pulled her wrist back so that he could lean closer. "I woged. I showed you _my_ dark side. Let's see yours."

"I'll scream," Gretel hissed.

"You won't. You have more pride than that."

"I'm a _Grimm_," she practically spat. "That's _all _I am."

"You're a Grimm," Renard agreed. "A Grimm who hunts Hexenbiests. I know about you and your brother, Gretel. Don't act so surprised. All Hexenbiests and their bastard children from here to Timbuktu know about the great Hansel and Gretel: Hexenbiest hunters. Selective Grimms with an incredible amount of self-hatred." His eyebrows lifted. "Considering who their mother was."

She didn't _mean_ to. Really, she didn't. She controlled it so well, even other Grimms never spotted it. Nick never guessed, never suspected. Why should he? She was a Grimm, just like him. He'd called her kin. They were the same. They were! But Renard was right; that side -the side that was like Nicholas Burkhardt- was only _one_ side of her. It was the side of her that she embraced fully, training and pushing herself to excel in. The other side... It was so, so_ small_. Gretel hoped it might vanish altogether one day. She didn't nurse it or embrace it; she was _not_ a witch! She didn't know about powers or herbs or potions.

And her woge, which Sean could see now and nod at with such smug satisfaction, was so minimal. The only rotting, disfigured flesh was a small patch around the left side of her chin and lower cheek. Other than that, even in a full woge, she was clean.

She was a _Grimm_; not a Hexenbiest.

"I've seen worse," Renard said dryly.

Gretel wrenched her wrist free and replaced her arm protectively, keeping his face away from hers. "What do you know about my mother?"

"Adrianna." Sean swallowed. "She was a friend of my mother's."

Gretel swallowed too -gulping back, blinking back- but not quick enough. Three tears betrayed her, rolling down her face speedily, as if the teardrops themselves were separate entities that could feel ashamed for existing.

"I'm going to let you go now." Sean started to take a step back. "But you have to come with me. We have a lot to talk about."

Gretel nodded. She wasn't going to run; she needed to hear what Sean Renard had to say about her mother. Gretel was so desperate to hear it, she knew Hansel would be disgusted. He'd want her to cut this monster's head off and get to safety. Renard knew her secret, and he was the offspring of Hexenbiest. That made him untrustworthy. Hexenbiests were liars, killers, cunning vessels of evil... The only good Hexenbiest was a dead one.

Hansel would _hate_ her for this if he was here now.

But he wasn't.

And she needed this.

* * *

August smiled at her inbox. Two messages. Exactly what she'd hoped for. She clicked open Bianca's email first.

She was coming. Stupid girl.

Bianca thought she was so pretty and perfect, didn't she? That no one could ever _not_ love her. She'd never understood August's resentment towards her. A grown up not over the moon for her charms? Oh, how _shocking_!

But not as shocking as what August planned to show the little twit when she arrived. Bianca had to learn, sooner or later, that she couldn't have everything she wanted.

As her stepmother, August was determined to be the one to teach her that.

_Ding-Dong._

The doorbell. Here he was. Right on time. She grinned at her reflection in the mirror above her computer, going into full woge and running her perfectly manicured fingers through her hair.

Strutting to the door, August opened it with an exaggerated flourish.

Carl Fieri stood on the front step, pale and trembling. He held his arms awkwardly. Clearly he'd been playing with fire again. Always trying to fight the urge.

August smiled at him. He always came crawling back to her. _Always_. He'd tried to stay away, thinking -silly boy- that he was in love with Bianca, but here he was. He was back. Her Daemonfeuer lover.

He looked over his shoulder. Always so scared someone would follow him. Somehow it never got old; August had always found his paranoia charming.

"_Hello_," she purred seductively. "Come in."

Carl entered, careful where he stepped on the newly polished marble floor.

"I'm glad you're here, baby." She reached out and stroked his clammy cheeks. "You couldn't have picked a better day. My husband won't be back for _hours_."

He shook his head and stepped back, brushing off her touch. "I don't want that. I told you I just wanted to buy some Jay; I'm trying to go clean, but I can't take it anymore... I'm in pain every minute of the day..." Carl bit onto his lower lip. "I just need some relief. And I don't know who else has a supply right now..."

"_Baby_," cooed August, closing the gab between them. "You know I won't take your money."

"Then there's no reason for me to be here."

"You don't want me?" She flipped some hair over her shoulder. "I can make your pain go away just as well as a dose of Jay can."

"No, I'm not doing this anymore. I _don't _love you."

"You love_ her_?" August scowled. What did he want _Bianca_ for? She was just a _child_, not an experienced woman like herself.

"You know I do."

"Well, you don't need to love me to give me what I want."

"You're disgusting."

"Then go."

He nodded. "I will."

"But you leave without this." August bent over, reached into her shoe, and pulled out a small see-through bag of Jay. "And you know my stepdaughter is never going to be allowed to see you. You'll suffer miserably and alone." She grinned at him, batting her eyes. "Have fun."

"Please just let me_ buy_ some," he begged her in a choked voice. "I don't have all the money now, but I'm good for it. Half up front. The rest by and by."

"I don't want your money," August said again. "And I don't want _anything _from you _by and by_. I want something right now."

"August, please..."

She reached out and started to unbutton his shirt. "Don't worry, sweetie, it'll be over before you know it." _In more ways than one... _"Burned flesh looks good on you, baby."

"August, please don't."

She pulled him to her and started to kiss his neck as she unfastened the remaining two buttons.

"I never wanted you," he choked.

"Oh, but I've _always_ wanted you," she whispered. "And I'll always have you."

"I hate you."

"But your hate doesn't take away anything I want. Your beautiful mouth, your young body..."

Carl's eyes shone with tears. "I should have let the Grimm catch me and cut off my head."

"Hush, baby. Don't be so dramatic." She pressed her mouth against his in a rough kiss.

* * *

Gretel willed herself to stay calm as Sean Renard shut the door behind them. She was alone in an office now. His mother was a Hexenbiest; he _could_ want revenge. If this was some trick, an attempt to attack her for what she'd done to his kind (Hansel would call suck tricks typical), this would be the time to go for it. The door was glass, and there were a lot of windows, but there were also plenty of blinds.

She wasn't usually this fragile, but this was about her parents -her _mother_- and for once in her life there was no one to hold her back. No one to try and convince her she didn't give a shit. _Hansel _didn't; she only pretended not to. Though sometimes she wondered how much of her brother's attitude was only pretend, too. To some extent, she knew he just wanted to keep himself from hurting.

How much pretending did they do for each other? Or _themselves_?

"First things first," Renard said, pressing his palm down on the side of the desk. "I need to know who you're working for. Before I divulge any information to you."

"I don't work for anybody," Gretel snapped, offended. "If you know so much about me and my brother, you know we only work for ourselves."

"No offers from the royal families? The Verrat loves its Grimms." He smiled bitterly. "Especially the ones that can deliver."

"What I have or have not been offered is none of your business."

"But you're not working for the Verrat or any royal house now?" He leaned forward, staring dead into her face.

Gretel half wanted to spit into his face, for being that close to hers so many times today without permission. "No."

"You realize I _will_ find out if you're lying," he warned her. "It's just a matter of time." He pulled back. "And not a lot of it, either."

"What would lying get me?"

"Do you know who I am?"

She shrugged. "Zauberbiest."

"I asked _who_, not _what_."

Gretel's face betrayed her. In a good way this time. Renard was actually taken back. "You don't know. And I take it you don't know about Nick having the key?"

"What key?"

"If you're not after the key, then why are you here, with Nick, instead of killing Hexenbiests with your brother?"

Gretel didn't trust him enough to tell him her brother was missing -or worse. She didn't answer.

"Famous witch hunting team finally broke up?"

"What if we did?" She wasn't saying yes or no, she wasn't telling him anything he could use against her (or Hansel, wherever he was).

"Your mother sided with the Resistance," Renard said slowly, letting that sink in. "Your father, the Grimm, eventually joined her, leaving the Verrat."

Gretel felt weak at the knees.

"What I don't understand is why you hate Adrianna, but not your father. Grimms can be bad people, too."

"It wasn't a _Grimm_ that left my brother -the only person I had left- with a disease that could _kill_ him if he forgets, even_ one_ time, to take his injections," Gretel said darkly, folding her arms across her chest. "It wasn't a _Grimm_ that forced him to eat by putting a knife to my throat."

Sean Renard's expression softened a little. "There _are_ good Hexenbiests in the world, Gretel. And good Zauberbiests. Not as many as I wish I could say there were, being what I am. Not so many that I'd expect you to be _proud_ to share even a fraction of our DNA, but enough that I'd think you and your brother could at least avoid crossing the line into genocide."

Gretel looked down at her boots.

"Gretel, look at me..." Renard waved his hand under her face, making it clear he expected her to obey.

She did so, but slowly.

"It just shows how powerful your mother really was, that you can woge at_ all_," he told her. "The blood of a Grimm can take away that ability and all Hexenbiest powers. The fact that your father's DNA didn't overwhelm hers so significantly for that reason tells me something. It tells me the royal families will _want_ you.

"If they don't have you yet, they'll want you desperately. More than they want Nick, and only slightly less than they want that damned key. And if they can't have you, they'll kill you. You'll have Reapers chasing you wherever you go."

Hansel had said that once: _I don't think we're the hunters, Gretel. I think we're being hunted. _She'd thought he was being paranoid because of a sugar spike at the time. Now she wasn't so sure. They had been hunted down as children, and young adults, relentlessly. Nick hadn't even _seen_ a Reaper's sorry ass before he was a grown man.

"Do you know why they left us?" Gretel asked quietly.

"Who?"

"Our parents." _Mine and Hansel's._

"The Verrat never forgave your father for leaving them. It was the ultimate betrayal. It was only a matter of time. Maybe your mother got wind of it before it happened."

"Before _what_ happened?" Gretel swallowed hard.

"Gretel..."

"They're dead, aren't they?"

Sean Renard nodded.

"How?"

"Burning." Renard slid into a leather chair, shaking his head. "And hanging."

"Both?"

"They burned your mother, and hung your father."

We were _wrong_, she realized brokenly. Hansel and I were wrong about them all this time...

"In a few days time, expect a package," Sean Renard told her after a long pause. "From me. Its contents belonged to your mother. I'll send it to Nick's house. It's better if you have it. Adrianna gave it to my mother, but I have no use for it. If you're lucky, it might protect you."

"Why are you helping me?" asked Gretel, her brow furrowing.

"Because you look like Adrianna, a good friend in my mother's time of need. And you care about Nick." He folded his hands, intertwining his fingers, cracking his knuckles. "And for that reason, it's not currently in my best interests to see you dead. So accept my help and watch your back."

* * *

Carl had never hated himself more than that moment when August, finished with him for now, dressed in nothing but gray silk sheets, took a cigarette and pulled out a lighter from her nightstand drawer.

He couldn't believe he'd been so weak. So desperate for Jay that he would give into this. He hated August, stupid cheating whore that she was, but his self hatred ran even deeper. She'd used him, the way she always did when he begged her for Jay... However, _he_ was the one who_ let _himself be used.

Worse, he'd betrayed Bianca with a woman who was _nothing_ next to her. His own beautiful Bianca who he wanted to tell everything and clean up his life for. Bianca, who could understand about everything, but would never be able to forgive him for _this_, if she knew. Even the best girl in the world had her limitations. And the best girl in the world was, of course, smart enough to know she deserved better.

"August?" called a familiar voice from the other side of the door.

_Bianca!_ Carl jumped out of the bed, barely even noticing how happy August looked, puffing away on her cigarette. What the hell was _Bianca _doing here?

"Come_ innnnn_," chimed August, in a sing-song tone, exhaling.

"Holy Jesus! _Shit_!" Carl dropped to the ground, fumbling to find his pants and throw them back on.

But it wasn't any use. A half-dressed Carl couldn't explain to a horrified Bianca, staring at him in heartbroken disbelief, what he was doing in August Applesmith's bedroom in the first place.

"Carl..." Her pretty white face crumpled. "How _could _you?"


End file.
